CATCHING FIRE PEETA'S POV
by markwatney
Summary: We all know Katniss' story, but this is how it went in Peeta's mind from every single step of the way. I will be following each chapter of the books, and will do all three books. This is second, Catching Fire. What actually goes on inside the boy with the breads head? Hope you enjoy, please read and review, I would really love it!
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

I knead the dough beneath my hands in a therapeutic rhythm. Despite the frozen air, the door to the bakery is wide open. Chilly winds help keep the sweat from soaking me; all of the ovens are on and working hard, but not as hard as I am. There are piles and piles of bread, ready to be cooked and sold in the bakery. Occasionally, my mother comes into the kitchens, her stern face wishing she could tell me to stop wasting all of her ingredients, but what would be the point? We have enough money to buy more. We can always eat what we don't sell. There's no point any more.

By noon, everybody will be here. My prep team, my stylist, the cameramen, the reporters, Effie Trinket... Everybody. They'll dress me up and parade me for weeks on end for the victory tour; where I'll have no privacy or time to myself apart from when I get to sleep. Even then, in sleep, my nightmares keep me company. So there isn't much else I can do right but bake. Bake the Games away, bake the nightmares away, bake the Victory Tour away. Just bake.

If it were up to me, I would try to forget about the Hunger Games entirely. I've been catatonic, lying in bed and not wanting to eat for so many weeks after I came back. It isn't just heartbreak that has been beating me up, taking the life away from me. It's the flashbacks, the faces that haunt me, the cruel and cold hand of death on my shoulder. The Victory Tour makes forgetting impossible, though. Placed just a few months before the new Games begin and the last Games end, it's impossible to escape the grip of the Capitol for long enough to forget.

Not that I ever really could forget, anyway. Not truly.

Ever since coming back to District 12, Katniss and I have barely seen each other or talked to her. Whenever I do see her, she avoids my gaze as much as possible. Truthfully, I think she's avoiding me. Months have passed since I've last been able to kiss her, yet my heart still craves her love and affection with each passing day.

Deep down, I know she did what she thought was right. All she wanted was for us both to survive, so she played the Capitol but in turn, she played me. I can't help but forgive her, still. I'm here right now doing everything that I am because of what she did, but that doesn't it stop it hurting like hell. Even with all of this, though, there's a tiny part of me that niggles at my brain, reminding me of our last real kiss and how nobody, not even someone as skilled as Katniss, could fake what I felt in that kiss. It wasn't just me that put love into it; it was her, too.

The sun keeps rising, and soon I have to force myself to stop. As soon as I do, my muscles bark in protest, aching from overuse. I've gained back a lot of my muscle definition and weight from being back here, spoiled in money and riches and even living in a new house in the Victors Village. By the time I make it back, I've only got an hour or so until everybody arrives and chaos ensues around me. Instead of going home, I make my way over to Haymitch's house which is just a few doors down from my own house in the same vicinity. Flour naturally blows off my shirt and trousers as the chilly breeze blows around me, making goosebumps arrive all over my skin.

Haymitch's door is open when I arrive, and I hear both he and Katniss conversing. My heart is empty in my chest at the sound of her voice, the picture of her face. The emptiness replaced the pain a long time ago, or else there is no way I could be coping right now.

"Why am I all wet?" I hear Haymitch say.

"I couldn't shake you awake," Katniss grunts. "Look, if you wanted to be babied, you should have asked Peeta."

Hearing her saying my name sends a knot in my stomach, twisting with unpleasant emotions of heartbreak, sadness and a tiny bit of betrayal. "Ask me what?" I say, entering the room. Haymitch is lying on the table, empty bottles of liquor around him and soaking wet. Bits of water drip off the table slowly. Katniss stands over him, surveying me slowly. How long has it been since we've been in a room together, so close yet so far apart?

I cross the table, setting a loaf of freshly baked bread that I took from the bakery. I imagine doing that back before the Games - my mother would have _killed_ me. Probably very literally killed me.

"Asked you to wake me without giving me pneumonia," Haymitch says, passing a knife over to me which I douse in some white liquor to clean it. I smile at him.

"Would you like a piece?" I ask Katniss. It's the first words I've said to her in months.

"No, I ate at the Hob," she says. "But thank you."

Her voice sounds so formal it takes me aback. "You're welcome," I say stiffly.

Haymitch's face crumples. "Brrr. You two have of a lot of warming up to do before showtime." he tells us.

He's right, of course. The last time the Capitol saw us, we were a pair of infatuated teenagers who would do (and did) literally anything to be with each other. Now, we're just two people who avoid each other like a disease made of pain and sorrow. "Take a bath, Haymitch." Katniss says, changing the subject before leaving through an open window.

Sighing, I turn back to Haymitch and keep cutting the bread. There's a thick silence between us. Not only have I barely seen Katniss, but I haven't seen Haymitch either. To be truthful, I've been hiding away in the bakery, taking up all of my time with decorating cakes and cooking. Whenever my mother actually does shoo me away from the kitchen, I paint. I try to paint away the pain of the Games, by soaking them up on a canvas.

The silence doesn't exactly last long. Haymitch breaks it. "Still unbearably in love with her?" he sayS. I give a small, impassable nod of the head. "If you don't mind me asking... Why exactly do you love her?"

"Haymitch-" I say, but he breaks me off.

"Is it the intolerable arrogance? The snarly attitude?" he says sarcastically.

"Look, I don't want to talk about this, OK?" I say.

He gets up from his seat, the wood scraping on the floor sending cutting chills through me. "Well too bad, Lover Boy," Haymitch retorts, using the nickname that the Careers gave me in the Games. "You're going to have to talk about for weeks on end, starting in just an hour. And not just talk about it. Live it. Feel it."

"But it's not real," I say. "It's... not real for her." A hard lump forms in my throat, and I feel almost like I'm going to cry but I can't. Not here, not now.

Haymitch gives me a hard look. "You know better than that."

Before I can question him any more than that, he walks off and up the stairs, taking a bottle of liquor with him and swigging it as he goes. After a minute, I hear the water start running into his bathtub, hitting hard against the porcelain. I recompose myself before leaving and heading back home where the prep team will no doubt await me.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

My father is at the house when I get there, but the prep team haven't arrived yet. I greet him with a small hello before returning to my room.

It's not really _my_ room, per say. When I first moved into the golden house on the rim of the Victors Village, I didn't sleep for almost a week. Being in my room felt weird - off, almost. Everyone in my family was slightly weird with the fact that I now had my own house; my brothers didn't want to live there, my mother just wanted to be in the bakery. It was only my father that actually came to stay for good rather than live above the bakery; partly because he didn't want me to live alone, partly because he gets more time away from my mother living here.

My room isn't much of a sanctuary and I don't really like being in here unless I have to be. It's too confined, even though it's bigger than the entire first floor of the bakery. Something stale in the air rots within the walls that makes me feel uncomfortable, but I know it's not really the room that's the problem. It's me.

I get changed into clothes that don't have flour all over them and brush my hair off in the mirror. Dotted around my room are paintings everywhere, images of the Games that I want to get out of my head. It's not exactly the best method, but taking something ugly, that causes me so much pain, can be turned into something beautiful even if they'll never actually be beautiful.

Walking down the spiral staircase, I realise that I don't really know what time is right now. Everything just passes through me - the days, the nights. The sun goes down and the moon goes up, but nothing good fills my days. I bake. I paint. I sleep. There's not much else to it.

"Son," my father says, surprising me. He's standing a few metres away from the staircase, watching me.

"Hey," I say. "Everything OK?"

"Exactly the same thing I wanted to ask you," he says, a smile filling his face, as warm as the bread we both cook.

I smile back, but I don't feel it. "What's up? I say, getting down the last couple of stairs. He leads me into the living room, a plush place full of velveteen furniture and oak bookcases. A grey marbled fireplace sits at the side of the room, lit with warm fire and casting an orange glow throughout the room.

"I'm worried about you," my father states. "You've been cooped up in the bakery ever since you got back here. You've barely talked to me, your brothers, your mother or your girlfriend."

"Father-"

"I would have thought you'd be _happy,_ over the moon even," he says, breaking me off. "You've had a girl on the Everdeen girl for as long as... well, for as long as I can remember. You haven't even introduced her to us yet."

I take a big breath, trying to keep the emptiness inside me from breaking. If it breaks, then I break. "I don't really want to talk about this," I say in a small voice.

"You don't want to talk at all, let alone about her," my father says.

"You don't understand!" I say. I feel like a petulant teenager, saying that to my father. I watch as the hurt flickers momentarily across his face at my outburst, and my stomach plummets with guilt. "I... I'm sorry..." I say.

His warm face appears again. "It's okay," he says. "I'm just worried about you. So's your mother, and your brothers, if you believe it."

I fall onto the sofa, the weight of my legs too much to bear. My hands ruffle through my hair as I let out an exasperated breath. "Things are just... different now. Different here. The Games have changed everything." I say.

My father sits next to me on the sofa, wrapping an arm around me in a comforting manner. He's so large and warm and that I bend into it. "It's okay not to be okay, Peeta," he tells me. "You're allowed to grieve for those who died. You're allowed to feel the guilt for those you killed. You're allowed to feel heartbreak for Katniss. I don't know exactly what happened between you two, and I don't have to know. But what you have to know is that I'm here for you and you don't have to keep all of this to yourself any more."

He wraps his other arm around me as I begin to cry, my shoulders bobbing up and down as they wrack with the sobs that rattle through my chest. He keeps whispering to me that it's okay, it's okay.

I can feel as all of me breaks inside, but instead of trying to stop it, I just let myself break.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

My father cleans me up, makes me some tea and gives me a cookie; one he's decorated. On the top of the cookie is painted a little wood scene, trees and bushes and the like. I bite into the sugary goodness, tasting food properly for the first time in months. I take a sip on the tea and try to relish the calm of the house before the havoc of the Capitol come to shake it all up again.

It doesn't take too long for the commotion to begin. There are honking car horns, doors banging shut and loud, shouting voices. I have just enough time to drain my cup of tea and take the last bite of my cookie before I have to get up and answer the door. They're all standing there when I do, their arms wide open and calling my name. I let them pull me in for a gracious hug, despite being pulled aback by how I've let my hair grow out and that my skin is more burnt and beaten up.

"All that hard work, slowly disappearing!" one of the little birds says as they twist my hair between their hands.

"Now, now, this can all be fixed up!" another says, batting the others hand away from my hair.

They all fawn over me for a little bit, with my father watching offhandedly in the background of the situation. They whisper and giggle about his handsomeness, and I'm slightly thankful when he says he has to go back to the bakery. He gives me a small hug goodbye before he goes. "Try not to punch one of them in their face," whispers in my ear.

I laugh. "Those accents do grind on you, eh?" I say, which makes him smile. He pats my back and leaves, and I can't help but realise how much I do love my father.

Once he's gone, the prep team really begin their work on me. Sitting me down in one of the kitchen chairs, they lay out their beauty tools across the table, picking them out and working on me like a surgeon in a hospital. They cut and style my hair, highlighting a few bits of it so it looks a brighter blonde that it naturally is; they spray some kind of odd-coloured liquid onto my scars and burns that makes them disappear and look like fresh, new skin.

"Isn't it amazing that the very first games Katniss and you get to mentor is a Quarter Quell!" one of my prep team says as they're working on me.

"Ah, yeah," I say, faking a little smile. The Quarter Quell's happen every twenty five years, so I've never lived through one, but they live in complete infamy. They're known for having some sort of special theme to commemorate the Games and it's always some sort of miserable twist for the tributes. In the 25th Games, members of the District had to vote in the two tributes for the Games; in the 50th Games, the number of tributes were doubled. I can't help but feel sick at the idea of whatever twist they'll be giving us, especially knowing that Katniss and I will have to mentor them.

The prep team babble on about a mixture of the Quell, the Victory Tour and their own silly lives. Soon, with my head and skin stinging, the prep team put a light layer of make-up on and then they're done with me. They allow me to look in the mirror, and I look more handsome than I have in months and I can't help but have it feel like some sort of fake layer over me, over the real me.

Portia appears the second they've done with me. She sends them away and wraps me in for a hug, deep and warm. "Hello, Peeta," she says in her trademark purring voice.

"Hi," I say meekly as she lets me go.

Her look has changed in the few months I've been back at District 12. No longer seeming obsessed with her black and pink combination and instead she reminds me of a peacock, all coloured in different hues of blue and green. "You look good," she says. "Much better now. How have you been?"

"Well, I mean, you know," I stammer.

"I'm guessing Katniss didn't take it very well, then?" she says, her thin eyebrow raising high into her forehead.

"Take what well?" I ask.

"That she's in love with you," Portia says.

"What?" I say, confused. "Katniss... she... she doesn't love me." Portia lets out a small, unbelieving huff. "She doesn't! She told me so on the train, and we've barely spoken since we got back."

"Peeta, listen to me," she purrs. "No-one can pretend love that skilfully. Not all of it was playing pretend, and I think you know that, deep down."

Some part of me rumbles. I did. Well, at least, I hoped. I haven't had a lot of practise or time in kissing, but there was something in her kisses that felt... more. "Then why did she say it was all fake? Why hasn't she talked to me for months?" I ask.

"The Games can change you as a person. She, and you, have had to deal with a lot in that arena and now you're both feeling the repercussions of that," Portia says. "You both need time. Maybe Katniss moreso than you. Right now, she needs a friend. If you love her, you will have to be that friend."

"I... I never really thought of it like that," I say in a small voice.

"You more than anyone understand how it felt to be in those Games," Portia continues. "She needs you right now, but she's not the type of person to ask for the help that she deserves."

I know if I try to give her the help, she'll probably just push me away but the most I can do is try. Portia is right, after all, and I can't believe I haven't thought about it in the same way. Normally, I always try to put other peoples needs first... I guess the Games have changed me more than I thought they did. The thought makes me feel sick.

Portia lets me mull things over in my mind as she gels my hair into a thick, wavy style and dressing me in a thick, fur-lined coat. She talks to me a bit about my talent. Every victor is supposed to have a specific talent, but it can be anything you like really. We decide quickly that my talent is painting. I can't help but wonder what Katniss' talent is. I doubt it will hunting, as it's technically illegal... Singing is my guess, but it's probably just my secret hopes. I fell in love with her voice, and so would the entirety of Panem, but I don't think she would sing in front of everybody.

All of a sudden, my front door bursts open. Effie Trinket stands in the doorway. "Attention, everyone! We're about to do the first outdoor shot, where the victors greet each other at the beginning of their marvellous trip. Big smiles, Peeta - just another minute!" she says before disappearing out the doorway once more.

Portia gives me a small kiss on the cheek before leading me out the door by my shoulders. Cold air hits me hard, and I'm glad for the coat. My face breaks into a smile when I see Katniss, my breath hitching in my chest at the sight of her. She begins to run toward me, as if super excited to see me. _She's good at this whole acting thing_ , I think to myself bitterly. _Maybe that's her talent_.

I catch her in my arms when she gets to me, but my artificial leg doesn't really cooperate with the frozen ground and we both topple over into the snow. Then, she kisses me. The first kiss we've had in months. Compared to the ones I thought were real, this one feels forced, but some part of me knows makes me want to savour the tingling feeling of her lips on mine for as long as possible. I kiss her as heartily as I can, knowing it's important to her to keep it up for the cameras.

After we kiss, she pulls me up to my feet and tucks herself into my arms. She's warm and distant.

* * *

The rest of the day is a blur of getting to the station and bidding goodbyes. My father hugs me tightly, my mother barely touches me. I wave from the window as the train pulls out from the platform before the old team begin to dine. The meal wish washes by in a dream, my concentration dissipating into nothingness. This day has been longer than any I've experienced and I want it to end.

When I finally get into a silky pair of Capitol pyjamas, I bid myself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

Rapping on my door pulls from the crutches of my deep sleep. Effie pops her head round my door to ensure that she's woken me up with her incessant tapping. She tells me that I'm going to get even more work done on me today by my prep team so that I'm ready for the warmer weathers of District 11. Only part of me can imagine how difficult visiting this District will be for Katniss. It was Rue's home.

After breakfast, my prep team collect me and strip me. "We don't have as much work to do on you as Katniss' prep team has," one of the little birds giggles at me, making me wonder what exactly they'll be doing to her. For some reason, the women are expected to be preened much more than the men in the Capitol and the sexism of that fact annoys me; as if Katniss hasn't been through enough.

They wash me down with a gritty soap that feels like each little stone rips inside my skin to clean my pores. They cover me in the stuff before soaking me in a thick, menthol solution in a bathtub. I can barely breathe as I lie in the stuff, but the next bath they shove me in smells like the beautiful roses I grew so familiar of before the Games in the Capitol. They're practically the only untainted memory I have from back then.

The whole time I'm being washed by them, they make snide comments about my prosthetic leg. "It's such a shame that they had to do that," one of them says.

"Maybe there's a way we could... make it less... you know," another comments. I try to let the remarks slide off me, but I still don't have that much self-confidence when it comes to the way my fake leg looks, so it's harder than it seems.

By the time lunch comes around, I'm starving hungry and waste no time tucking into the meal that's been laid out for us on silver platters. Effie, Cinna, Portia and Haymitch are already there and eating away. Effie compliments the glow of my skin, but it just feels raw and freshly peeled rather than "glowing". I can't help but notice, as I'm shovelling mountains of stew in me, that Katniss is avoiding look at me. Somehow, I need to try to reach out to her, approach the subject of being friends. Portia told me I had to be there for her, and she was right. I know that now.

People keep trying to bring Katniss into the conversation, but she's in an incredibly grouchy mood that seems impossible to pull her out of. All of a sudden, halfway through the dinner, the train pulls to a halt, but we haven't reached District 11 yet. Some server reports that a part has malfunction and needs to be replaced, which will take about half an hour to do so, sending Effie into ultimate meltdown. She begins to babble, talking faster than a cheetah runs, about the impact of this delay and how we'll never be able to be on time, etc., etc..

"No one cares, Effie!" Katniss snaps. Everyone at the table turns to stare at her, shocked. "Well, no one does!" she says defensively, trying to back herself up when nobody says anything. Then, she gets up and walks out the carriage, the door slamming behind her. We listen in silence around the table as she exits through the fire door. It triggers some sort of alarm, but it doesn't make her come back.

"I'll go," Haymitch says gruffly, his chair scraping against the floor.

I stand up, waving him off. "No, let me, please," I say.

Haymitch nods in understanding; I think he's partly grateful that I am even volunteering to talk to her after how cold we were to each other in front of him. When I reach where Katniss is, she's facing away me, sitting down and looking off into the horizon. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture," she says, kicking a clump of weeds near her foot.

"I'll try to keep it brief." I say, taking a seat beside her.

"I thought you were Haymitch," she says, looking to me in slightly surprise.

"No, he's still working on that muffin." I joke. I try to reposition my artificial leg into a more comfy, natural position but it still sticks out awkwardly. Katniss watches me carefully. "Bad day, huh?"

"It's nothing," she says, brushing me off.

I take a deep breath, trying to summon up the courage it takes to not be pushed away. "Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last rain. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry." I say, barely pausing.

She pauses for a little while, taking in everything in. "I'm sorry, too," she says eventually.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends," I offer. I realised suddenly that my words couldn't be any truer. I'd rather have Katniss as a friend than nothing at all. The Games brought us together, and I can't let my own feelings tear us apart. We'll be in each other's lives for years, mentoring at each Games and living just a ten odd minutes away from each other.

"OK," she says, agreeing. Immediately, the awkward air seems to dissipate around us and we become ourselves again.

"So what's wrong?" I ask, but my question is met with silence as she picks at the clump of weeds. "Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine... but I don't know what your favourite colour is?" I say.

A smile sneaks her way up to her face. "Green. What's yours?" she answers.

"Orange," I say.

"Orange? Like Effie's hair?"

A laugh escapes my lips. "A bit more muted," I say. "More like... sunset."

She looks off into the sky, imagining the colour. I imagine with her a beautiful sunset orange in the summer evenings, casting a warm glow on everything. "You know, everyone's raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them," Katniss says.

"Well, I've got a whole train car full." I say, rising up to my feet and offering my hand to help her up. "Come on."

She takes her hand, but instead of letting me go, she intertwines her fingers with mine and walks back to the train with me. When we get to the door, she stops, pulling me. "I've got to apologise to Effie first." she says.

"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick," I tell her. We get in, and I decide to let her grovel to Effie in private and wait for her a little down the corridor, just so much that she can see me but not so much that she thinks I'm eavesdropping. A long time passes before Effie lets her off and Katniss is able to leave the room. I greet her with a warm smile before leading her down a few carriages to go see some of the paintings I brought with me to showcase my talent.

She's quiet for a very long time as she looks at all of them. "What do you think?" I ask cautiously.

"I hate them," she says. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?"

"I see them every night," I say in a small voice, letting miniature flashbacks of the nightmares pass through me.

"Me, too. Does it help? To paint them out?" she asks.

"I don't know." I say, trying to be honest. "I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am, but they haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't." Katniss says.

"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand." I say. "So you really hate them?"

"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really," she says. It hurts a little, but I try not to let it because truthfully, I understand. Whenever I'm finished painting them, I can bare to look at my own creation. Choosing which ones to bring was a flashback-ridden horror of a choice. "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it." Katniss says.

It makes me laugh, which is a surprising contradiction in a room full of paintings of the Games. "Later." The train lurches forward, fixed again. "Come on, we're almost at District 11. Let's go take a look at it."

We walk off to the last car on the train, sitting on some divine plush sofas. You can see the fresh, wide landscape as the train sweeps across the land. There a huge open fields with herds of dairy cattle, heavily unlike our wooded home. The train begins to slow slightly, and we get into a station where a fence that towers ten metres surrounds the train vessel. Nothing looks as lax as it is in our District.

"That's something different," I note. We zoom past some crops, stretching out as far as I can see for miles and miles. There are orchard trees in the distance. "How many people do you think live here?" I ask, but Katniss doesn't reply. I cast a tentative eye over to Katniss who's eyes have glazed over with the memories that haunt her and feel an urge to reach over and pull her into me, comfort her.

Effie calls us to get dressed and ready for our entrance to District 11. Portia gets me into an orange and black suit that I think is rather fetching, but I keep wondering about what Katniss may be wearing. When I see her again, dressed by Cinna's hand, I'm not disappointed. She's in an orange frock patterned with autumn leaves, and her image makes me fall in love all over again. _You're just friends now_ , I remind myself.

For one last time, Effie goes through the programme and schedule with us all: being paraded through the District, fed with too much of their food and giving a speech they won't want to hear and we won't want to give. As the train pulls into the, I brush past Katniss and feel that she's shaking.

When we get out onto the platform, it's empty. There is no cheering welcoming committee. Eight Peacekeepers stand, waiting to direct us into an armoured truck. Effie sniffs when we're shoved inside. "Really, you'd think we were all criminals," she says, disgruntled and trying not to get her dress dirty on the benches.

We're let out near the District 11 Justice Building and sent to the back entrance. Smells of food cooking mixes with mildew and rot. There's not a lot of time to look around, and I doubt we'd be allowed if we did have the time. The anthem begins to boom through the square, noting our arrival. The mayor introduces us before the large, grandeur doors open with a big groan, revealing Katniss and I to the world.

"Big smiles!" Effie says, nudging us to move us forward.

There's a loud applause as we walk across the stage toward the microphone. The square is packed with people, but I doubt that this is even a small fraction of the amount of people who live here. I look out across and there are two special platforms built for the families of the tributes, with banners of the tributes painted behind them. On Thresh's platform, there's just one old woman and a tall girl who I presume must be his sister. But Rue's side is bursting with people, five younger siblings and a pair of parents. Their faces are painted with sorrow and sadness.

When the applause dies out, the mayor gives a small speech in our honour and it makes my stomach twist with sickness. I try to do my part of the scripted reply that Effie gave me, and Katniss tries to conclude it but her voice is small.

I look out toward the pictures of Rue and Thresh and decide not to get out my personal comments cards. Instead, I tell everybody about how amazing and strong Rue and Thresh were. How they got to the final eight. How they both kept us alive in part and how this is a debt that neither of us will ever be able to repay.

"It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we'd like for each of the tributes' families from District 11 to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives." I say with finality. I have no idea if I'm allowed to do so, but I go along with it. It's our winnings after all. And they deserve them. It's the only way I can give back in any way.

The crowd gasps and murmurs. Katniss looks over and I give her a sad smile, the only thing I can muster. She raises up on her tip toes to kiss me, which I happily accept but it confuses me. _It's just a thank you,_ I tell myself, _nothing more_.

The mayor steps forward and presents us each with a large plaque. Katniss is looking out toward Rue's family and I know, in her face, that she's going to go up and say something.

"Wait!" she says, stumbling forward toward the microphone again. Wait, please. I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District 11. I only ever spoke to Thresh one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn't know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone's terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I respected him for that."

Everybody is so silent. I look toward Thresh's family; the old woman is smiling at Katniss. The whole crowd feels as though it's holding their breath as they wait for Katniss to talk to Rue's family.

"But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim." Katniss says, taking a small pause. "Thank you for your children. And thank you all for the bread."

There's a long pause, and the entire audience is trained on Katniss. Somewhere in the crowd, someone whistles Rue's four-note mockingjay tune that Katniss showed me back in the Games. By the end of the tune, I see the whistler: an old man in a faded shirt and overalls. He and Katniss meet eyes.

The mayor interjects, closing goodbye and taking a last round of applause. He leads us back to the Justice Building.

I turn to Katniss, who looks sickly and dizzy. "Are you all right?" I ask her.

"Just dizzy. The sun was so bright," she says. "I forgot my flowers," she mumbles; the bouquet she left was sitting on the stage.

"I'll get them," I offer.

"I can," she says. She opens the doors, and I can see it all happen. It happens in slow motion, chaos ensuing on the stage. A pair of Peacekeepers drag the old whistling man to the top of the steps, forcing him to kneel to the crowd. Then, they put a bullet through his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

He crumples to the floor, dead.

A wall of uniformed Peacekeepers block our view from the old man. They keep pushing us back toward the building. "We're going!" I say, shoving the Peacekeeper who keeps pressing against Katniss. "We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss."

I grab her arm, guiding her back into the Justice Building with Peacekeepers following a pace or two behind us, ensuring we don't get up to anything else. The moment the doors slap behind us, I immediately cut off from everything going on around me. Haymitch, Effie, Portia and Cinna surround us, their faces pinched with the harsh grasp of anxiety.

"What happened?" Effie asks. "We lost the feed just after Katniss' beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard a gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!"

"Nothing happened, Effie. An old truck backfired," I tell her evenly, but then two more shots fire.

"Both of you. With me," Haymitch orders. Both Katniss and I follow him, my stomach twisting in nervousness. What is going on? We begin to ascend a curved marble suitcase, up and up until I think we're never going to stop. Finally, we reach a room at the top of the building. I can barely take in what the room looks like apart from dust-covered because my nerves are taking over, my brain going into over-drive about what could be happening. Haymitch takes our microphones and shoves them into a couch cushion and kicks the door of the room shut. "What happened?" he asks.

I tell him everything: the whistle, the salute, the death. "What's going on, Haymitch?" I ask when I'm done telling him what happened.

"It will be better coming from you," Haymitch says to Katniss.

She tells me everything. About President Snow visiting her house, about the unrest and whispers of rebellion in the Districts. She tells me how she kissed Gale, killing me slowly. She tells me how everybody is in jeopardy, how everybody I love could die, how the whole of Panem is in trouble because our trick with the berries. I'm shaking and pale by the end it all.

"I was supposed to fix things on this tour. Make everybody who had doubted believed I acted out of love. Calm things down. But obviously, all I've done is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished." Katniss finishes, sitting on the sofa and clutching her stomach. She almost looks sick.

"Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money," I say, realising. Everything bubbles up inside me. The unjust killing of the man; the fact my family, _my father_ , may die as well as my friends like Madge and Delly; Katniss kissing Gale... I knock a lamp over with my rage, and it smashes against the floor. If I'd known, if they had told me, then maybe I could have made this better. Maybe that man wouldn't have died. "This has to stop. Right now. This - this - game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I'm too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them."

"It's not like that, Peeta-" Katniss tries to say before I cut her off.

"It's exactly like that!" I yell at her. "I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District 12 who will be just ad dead as yours if we don't pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, don't I even rate the truth from you?"

"You're always so reliably good, Peeta," Haymitch interjects. "So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn't want to disrupt that."

"Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today. What do you think is going to happen to Rue's and Thresh's families? Do you think they'll get a share of our winnings? Do you think I gave them a bright future? Because I think they'll be lucky to survive the day!" I scream, imaging the Peacekeepers shooting all of Rue's beautiful brothers and sisters, killing them. So many deaths... So many lives gone, because of me. Because they didn't tell me. My rage is out of control, and I send another thing flying across the room, barely able to control what I'm doing.

Katniss is taken aback by my rage. "He's right, Haymitch," she says. "We were wrong not to tell him. Even back in the Capitol."

"Even in the arena, you two had some sort of system worked out, didn't you?" I say. I think back to how I asked Haymitch to help her, help keep her alive. He twisted that on me, worked against my own wishes. My voice grows small. "Something I wasn't part of."

"No. Not officially. I could just tell what Haymitch waned me to do by what he sent, or didn't send," Katniss admitted.

"Well, I never had that opportunity. Because he never sent me anything until you showed up," I say, my anger rising and rising.

"Look, boy-" Haymitch begins.

"Don't bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I wanted it to be her. But this is something different." I say, changing the subject to what I'm really mad about, what really matters here. "People are dead out there. More will follow unless we're very good. We all know I'm better than Katniss in front of the cameras. No one needs to coach me on what to say. But I have to know what I'm walking into," I say.

"From now on, you'll be fully informed," Haymitch promises.

Perhaps I've actually gotten through to them, and they'll listen to me now but I'm still angry and I don't want to be in this room a second longer with either of them. "I better be," I say, leaving.

I let Portia take me to wherever my shower is to get prepped and ready for the evening meal in the District. She dresses me in a District 11 type garb, a=overalls and a pale pink buttoned silk shirt. She puffs my hair up, making it look as though the sea has given it a kiss with wind. "Like it?" she asks, and I just about manage a nod even though I'm not really looking. What does it matter? It's an outfit. It's not important, really. Not any more.

I'm feeling number than when Haymitch walks in to Portia getting me ready. He sits down next to me, brushing Portia away for a couple of minutes. My stomach twists in nervousness, remembering just how bad I had let my outburst get earlier. "Look, kid," he starts. "You shouldn't have yelled at her like that. I get it, I get that you saw a horrible thing back there, and horrible things in the Games, but she is just trying to do what she thinks is best. Just like you are."

"I know," I say, in a small voice, feeling like a child getting told off.

"Well, show that you know," he says. "You've both done things that aren't great; but you've got to do what you can now." I nod to him, showing that I understand. "Right, let's get you down for dinner then, hey?" he offers, passing me his hand to help me up. He gives a small nod to Portia as thanks before leading me out of the room to where everybody else is waiting already.

Effie is a nervous wreck, going through the schedule over and over again. "And then, thank goodness, we can all get on that train and out of here," she finishes.

"Is something wrong, Effie?" Cinna asks gently.

"I don't like the way we've been treated. Being stuffed into trucks and barred from platforms. And then, about an hour ago, I decided to look around the Justice Building. I'm something of an expert in architectural design, you know," she says.

"Oh yes, I've heard that," Portia says. She gives me a little side-eye, her eyebrow raising. I almost let out a little laugh, despite my bad mood.

"So, I was just having a peek around because District ruins are going to be all the rage this year, when two Peacemakers showed up and ordered me back to our quarters. One of them actually poked me with her gun!" Effie says, clearly outraged.

Out of nowhere, Katniss gives Effie a hug. "That's awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn't go to the dinner at all. At least until they've apologized." she offers.

Effie brightens at this suggestion, as if Katniss truly is understanding of her pain. "No, I'll manage. It's part of my job to weather the ups and downs. And we can't let you two miss our dinner," she says. "But thank you for the offer, Katniss."

She arranges us in formation for our entrance, Katniss and I bringing up the rear. Musicians begin to play, and Katniss and I join hands. "Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions," I say. "And it isn't as if I haven't kept things from you in the past."

"I think I broke a few things myself after that interview," Katniss says, remembering the same moment as me when she found out that I loved her and she pushed me.

"Just an urn," I say, jokingly.

"And your hands. There's no point to it any more, though, is there? Not being straight with each other?" she questions.

"No point," I agree. I think for a second about the one thing that's been niggling at me, that hasn't seemed serious enough to bring up before. "Was tat really the only time you kissed Gale?"

"Yes." she says shortly.

"That's fifteen. Let's do it," I say, and we step through the doors that lead us out to the crowd waiting for the dinner to start. We both put dazzling smiles on, as bright as the lights that sown down on us. We descend the steps and get started with the dinner, course and courses of food.

Before I know it, we are whizzed through each District. Making speeches, eating food, going to ceremonies and getting through train rides. We don't give any of our own speeches, just the Capitol approved ones. We hold hands, we hug, we kiss, we dance. But on the train, we are quiet and miserable.

Even without our personal speeches riling the Districts up, there's something in the air that can only be described as discontent; like a pot about to boil over. I'm not sure how I didn't feel it back in 11, but I guess my naïvety was beyond me. I know already that what Katniss and I are doing isn't pouring water over the fires, it's pouring gasoline over it instead.

Sleeping gets more and more difficult. The nightmares rule me, and anxiety follows me wherever I go. I spend many of my nights wandering around the train, looking for anything to take my mind away from the pain that doesn't leave me. Often, I hear Katniss screaming from her nightmares, so I wake her. I calm her. Then, I climb into her bed and hold her, stroking her hair the same way I did in the cave, until she falls asleep. We stay in each others arms, and I'm glad. It helps me sleep, too. Whenever my nightmares take her away from me, I wake up and she's lying right beside me and I know she's okay.

Particularly, the appearances in District 1 and 2 are their own special kind of horrors because of how closely I worked with them. How I worked against them, should I say. I look at the anger in their families eyes, and I know I can't look at them again.

When we finally reach the Capitol, I am exhausted; emotionally and physically. We make endless appearances to the adoring crowds who remind me nothing of the Districts. Katniss has made a fashion sensation: everyone is wearing fire and mockingjays and braids in their hair. We go back to our old quarters in the Training Centre, and it doesn't feel at all comforting. Instead, I am a constant wreck of nerves, worrying all day and all night, knowing safety is worth noting here.

Somewhere in the evening time, Katniss suggests doing a public marriage proposal to prove our love. I can't help but feel so much hurt. I know that we're doing this for our families, for our friends, for everyone we love... But it doesn't help get rid of the pain that goes through me when she suggests it. I agree to it, of course. What else can I do? I do it for her, for her family, her friends. I even do it for Gale's life. Their lives are worth more than my feelings.

But still, I go off to my room after I agree. I need to be away from her for a little bit, because I'm sure she won't really understand. Not truly, anyway.

That night, we go off to a show where Caeser Flickerman entertains. I propose, pouring out my heart and begging her to marry me. Katniss accepts, full of faux giddiness. Caeser almost wets himself with excitement, and the crowd screams with happiness. When we kiss, I don't feel the warmth I did in the arena when I thought it was real. I feel numbness mixed with pain.

President Snow even makes a visit to congratulate us. He claps my hand, pulling me in and patting my shoulder; then he embraces Katniss, giving her a puffy kiss on the cheek that leaves a wet mark. It makes me feel sick. I watch them both closely as she raises her eyebrows in question: _was it enough_?

He shakes his head no.


	6. Chapter 6

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

In just this movement, this slight shake of the head, is the end of everything. I feel something inside me scream, so I look toward Katniss for some stability. The smile that lies on her face throws me off completely. It's wide and real, and I know for sure that she isn't faking it for the cameras at all. I notice she's standing up straighter, her movements easy. Is it possible that I read President Snow's shake wrong? Why does she seem so... okay?

President Snow silences the audience and my thoughts while he's at it. "What do you think about us throwing them a wedding right here in the Capitol?" he asks everybody. Katniss lets out a girly, ear-curling squeal, adding even more to my confusion about what's going on with her right now.

Caeser Flickerman asks the President if he has any dates in mind.

"Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss' mother," he says. The audience gives a big laugh and President Snow wraps an arm around Katniss, smiling widely. To me, he resembles a snake. "Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you're thirty."

"You'll probably have to pass a new law," Katniss says, giggling. I try not to let the confusion on my face show, but it crumples anyway.

"If that's what it takes," the President says, chuckling heartily.

The party begins soon after the pairs fake good natured humour. The whole place is crazily beautiful - the ceiling is painted like the night sky, the floors midnight black. Musicians float on white clouds around the grand room past long dining tables that are decorated with white lace and fresh flowers. Outside is a large tiled area and a fountain that sparkles like jewels. People are dancing and preforming and milling about socialising. The food is probably the most amazing part of the party, though: whole roasted pigs, platters of glazed fruit and vegetables, fish in spicy sauces, cheeses, breads, waterfalls of rose and amber coloured wines.

"I want to taste everything in the room," Katniss says to me.

Katniss has barely eaten during the entire Victory Tour. Her behaviour is beginning to make me think I read them wrong, that they succeeded instead. I can't imagine what else would have given her this mood change. "Then you'd better pace yourself," I tell her.

"OK, no more than one bite of each dish," she says, but her promise is broken at the very first table. It's full of different types of soups; the first one Katniss tries she exclaims to me, "I could just eat this all night!" But she keeps trying to stick to her promise.

Lots of people come talk to us, take photos with us, dance with us and kiss us on the cheeks. We make no effort at all to find company, but it doesn't matter because people just keep coming up to us. I try to put a good face on, but as the night drags on I get more and more exhausted with the charade.

After about ten tables of tasting dishes, we are both incredibly stuffed despite the fact there are miles more tables beyond us of food yet to try. Katniss' prep team descends onto us - they're as bird like as my own prep team.

"Why aren't you eating?" one, who Katniss tells me is called Octavia, says to us.

"I have been, but I can't hold another bite," Katniss tells her.

"No one lets that stop them!" the male one, Flavius, says. They both hold up a wine glass that holds thin, clear liquid in it. "Drink this."

I take one from them and take a sip, but Octavia's shrieking stops me. "Not here!" she says.

"You have to do it in there," the last member of Katniss' prep team, Venia, tells me as she points toward the toilets. I note that she's the much more subdued one of the three but that doesn't exactly mean she's any less... Capitol. "Or you'll get it all over the floor!"

I look down at the glass. "You mean this will make me puke?" I say, outraged.

The prep team laugh hysterically at Peeta's lack of knowledge about the Capitol ways. "Of course, so you can keep eating," Octavia says. "I've been in there twice already. Everybody does it or else how would you have any fun at a feast?"

I'm beginning to think that this whole conversation is going to make me angry. People here are eating too much, throwing it all up so they can eat even more, while people starve to death back in 12. Katniss was one of those people, and I can imagine she wants to get away from this conversation just as much as me. I set the vomit inducing wine back on the table. "Come on, Katniss, let's dance."

We get on the dance-floor, one of my arms wrapped around her waist, one of my hands in her hand leading her across the floor. I watch around us at the Capitol people, wondering who has thrown up and how many times and how disgusting it all is.

"You go along, thinking you can deal with it, thinking maybe they're not so bad, and then you-" I say, but I cut myself off, biting my tongue.

Katniss is quiet for a little bit as she thinks. "Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment," she says. "Really, this is nothing by comparison."

"I know. I know that. It's just sometimes I can't stand it any more. To the point where... I'm not suer what I'll do." I pause, making sure no one around is listening before whispering in her ear. "Maybe we were wrong, Katniss."

"About what?" she asks.

"About trying to subdue things in the Districts," I admit. It's something that has been keeping me up at night alongside the nightmares. The idea that maybe what Katniss and I have started isn't as bad as... isn't as bad as everyone thinks. But Katniss looks outraged at the thoughts I'm voicing aloud, her head spinning as she looks for cameras or people who may have caught what I said. "Sorry," I apologise.

"Save it for home," she snaps.

Just then, Portia appears with a large man who looks somewhat familiar. She introduces him as Plutarch Heavensbee, the brand new Gamemaker. He asks if he can steal Katniss for a dance. I agree, putting a big smile on for the cameras as I hand her over to him.

I don't stay on the dance-floor. It was silly of me to say such outrageously rebellious things out loud, so easily. Anyone could have heard. All I did was look around, a cursory glance, when there could have been microphones following us.

Somehow, I find my way over to a stack of beautifully decorated cakes. A waiter comes out to put some more on the platters and I ask him about the chefs. They come out gratefully and begin to chatter with me about their frosting techniques; telling me amazing stories of the tools they have back inn the kitchens. They even offer to make me some to take back to District 12 so I can examine their work in private.

Katniss comes just as I'm about to cheekily ask to sneak back to the kitchens to look at the tools, so I don't get a chance. The chefs excuse themselves after shaking her hand bashfully. I glance around. "Effie said we have to be on the train at one. I wonder what time it is," I say to her.

"Almost midnight," she replies. She picks up a delicate chocolate flower from one of the cakes and nibbles on it.

Right on cue, Effie turns up. "Time to say thank you and farewell!" she trills as she grabs our elbows and directs us. We collect Cinna and Portia as we go through the rooms, saying our goodbyes.

"Shouldn't we thank President Snow?" I ask, remembering that I need to talk to Katniss about what exactly his shake of the head and her change of attitude was about. "It's his house."

"Oh, he's not a big one for parties. Too busy," Effie says. "I've already arranged the necessary notes and gifts to be sent to him tomorrow. There you are!" she says, waving over a pair of Capitol attendants who have a very drunken Haymitch in their arms.

We get into a car with blacked out windows and I watch the beautiful buildings zoom by as we do. We head back to the train station and it pulls from its platform once we're all inside. Haymitch gets taken to his room. Cinna suggests drinking some tea in the dining room altogether.

"There's the Harvest Festival in District 12 to think about. So I suggest we drink our tea and head straight to bed." Effie orders.

* * *

In the night, I find it too difficult to sleep so I slip into the corridor and find my way to Katniss' room. I climb into the bed with her, trying hard not to wake her. She stirs slightly in her sleep, but I stroke her hair and she falls quickly back into the deep slumber she was in.

I fall to sleep next to her, watching her as she sleeps. The action is small, but beautiful. I'm getting dangerously used to sleeping next to her.

* * *

When Katniss finally wakes, it's almost afternoon. "No nightmares," I say to her.

"What?" she asks, sleep confusing her thoughts.

"You didn't have any nightmares last night," I tell her more clearly.

She pauses, her eyes widening in realisation. "I had a dream, though," she says quietly. "I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice."

"Where did she take you?" I ask her, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead and back around her ear. Her skin is warm and soft. I miss touching her.

"I don't know. We never arrived," Katniss says. "But I felt happy."

"Well, you slept like you were happy," I say.

She sits up slightly, leaning on an elbow. "Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" she asks.

"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralysed with terror," I say. Reliving the memories makes my heart contract in pain.

"You should wake me," she says.

"It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you," I tell her. "I'm OK once I realise you're here." Katniss is quiet for a little bit, and I realise that things feel a little awkward. Maybe I shouldn't say things like that any more, but it feels wrong. We're engaged, technically. Friends, too. I shouldn't have to filter what I say... But I still try to change the subject slightly. "Be worse when we're home and I'm sleeping alone again," I say.

Back home. My words remind us both. We'll be back in District 12 very soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

The Harvest Festival back in 12 passes in a blur. It is much harder to be the Katniss and Peeta that the Capitol expects when both of our families are watching, and Gale. My numbness returns in sweeping force when it's ended.

Katniss and I don't really get to see each other that much after the festival. She goes back to hunting, I go back to baking. Days pass, my time running away in scattered, fading interactions with my mother and brothers and few precious moments with my father. My father has begun to stay in the new house, the one in the Victors Village, for good now. He sometimes wakes in the middle of the night and checks on me, noticing that I get night terrors every so often and waking me whenever I do.

I don't take our newfound closeness for granted. Since winning the Games, I realise that I don't have to live under my mothers cruelty and her abusive behaviours and neither does my father. Our relationship has grown because we're away from her, allowed to be ourselves without the fear that she'll snap.

A couple days after the Harvest Festival, I run into Katniss just as I'm about to leave the Victors Village to head down to the market to buy some more food to make dinner for my family, an arrangement my father told me to make with my mother. All of the family will be there, and I can't stand the idea of it, but my father made the good point that we need to try to stay on mothers good side as much as possible, even though we have much more of a free rein from her now.

"Been hunting?" I ask.

"Not really. Going to town?" she asks.

"Yes. I'm supposed to eat dinner with my family," I say.

"Well, I can at least walk you in." she offers. We walk down the square road, silently as I wait for her to come out with whatever it she wants to say. She's breathing funny, her mouth tight and I can tell she's nervous. "Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?" she says, her words tripping over each other as she rushes them out.

I grab her arm, stopping her from walking. "Depends on why you're asking."

"President Snow wasn't convinced by me. There's an uprising in District 8. We have to get out," Katniss says. I can tell by her face that's being serious, but at the same time, fear has taken over her good intentions.

"By 'we' do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?" I ask.

"My family. Yours, if they want to come. Haymitch, maybe," she says uncertainty.

"What about Gale?" I say.

"I don't know. He might have other plans," she says.

I shake my head, but give her a smile. "I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I'll go." I say.

"You will?"

"Yeah. But I don't think for a minute you will," I say.

She jerks her arm away, clearly offended even though it's true. "Then you don't know me. Be ready. It could be any time." she says before taking off walking again.

I follow a pace or two behind her. "Katniss," I say, hoping she will stop, but she doesn't. I know that she doesn't want to hear right now that this is a bad idea, an irrational one. Maybe she needs this plan, needs some sort of comfort or hope. "Katniss, hold up." I say again, and this time she does. "I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won't be making things worse for everyone." I say, but my thoughts are carried away by a strange noise coming from the square. I raise my head and ask, "What's that?"

Katniss looks up, but doesn't say anything. I try to examine the noise: something like a whistling, a crowd gasping, an impact.

My face grows hard. "Come on," I say. My gut tells me that something is wrong. When we reach the square, it's clear that my gut is completely right but the crowd is much too thick to see through to what exactly is going on. I step on a crate against the wall of a sweetshop, offering Katniss a hand as I do so but the sight I see is enough to make me push her back down. "Get down. Get out of here!" I whisper harshly. She can't see this.

"What?" she says, trying to force her way back up.

"Go home, Katniss! I'll be there in a minute, I swear!" I say, pushing her down again. She really, _really_ can't see what is going on in the square. The sooner she is gone, the sooner I can stop Gale from receiving the lashes that some Peacekeeper is giving him.

But Katniss doesn't take my words. She pushes through the crowd, but they push her back telling her that she should get out of here. Then, I can tell from the silence in the crowd, she's reached Gale. She's seen the blood that drips down his back, his unconscious body slumping from a post.

Then, she steps forward into the whips next lash.


	8. Chapter 8

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

* * *

"No!" I hear her cry. I watch as she steps between the whip and Gale, her cheek getting the brunt of the whips force. Immediately, I jump from the crate I'm standing on and push through the crowd toward her. As I'm doing so, I hear Katniss shriek, "Stop it! You'll kill him!"

When I break through the crowd, Haymitch is already there and beginning to talk so I stand at the sidelines, waiting to see what he says, knowing he'll be more equipped to deal with this new Peacekeeper than I ever will be.

"Hold it!" he barks. He pulls Katniss to her feet and looks at her face. "She's got a photo shoot next week modelling wedding dresses. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?" he asks.

The Peacekeepers eyes flicker between Haymitch and Katniss, recognition flitting in. "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal." he states, resting the whip on his hip.

"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her cheek! Think that will be camera ready in a week?" Haymitch snarls.

The man's voice is cold, but doubt creeps in slightly as he recognises Katniss' importance even more. "That's not my problem."

"No? Well, it's about to be, my friend. The first call I make when I get home is to the Capitol," Haymitch warns. "Find out who authorised you to mess up my victor's pretty little face!"

"He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?" the Peacekeeper says.

I notice that Haymitch is beginning to lose his foot in the argument. Gale, in the eyes of the law, is a criminal; and despite Katniss' status as the current victor, there's not much reason for her to be defending what the law would say is a criminal. "He's her cousin," I say, stepping into the circle. I get over to Katniss, picking up her other arm gently. "And she's my fiancée. So if you want to get him, expect to go through both of us."

An old woman steps forward. "I believe, for a first offence, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad." she says stiffly. I'm not sure who the old woman is, but Katniss looks at her as if she knows her so I'm guessing she is someone who works at the Hob.

"Is that the standard protocol here?" the Head Peacekeeper asks another one of the Peacekeepers.

"Yes, sir," he replies, and many others nod in agreement.

"Very well. Get your cousin out of here, then, girl. And if he comes to, remind him that the next time he poaches off the Capitol's land, I'll assemble that firing squad personally." he barks, wiping his hand along the length of the whip and splattering us with Gale's blood. Then, he coils it and walks off with the rest of the Peacekeepers awkwardly following him in a formation.

Katniss turns to Gale and whispers his name. Someone passes a knife forward, I don't see who, but I take it from them and cut the rope on his hands to set him free. Gale collapses to the ground, unconscious.

"Better get him to your mother," Haymitch says.

Someone makes a stretcher the best they can, and by this time, most the square has emptied and not many people are there to ask to help get Gale onto the stretcher and carry him back to Katniss' home in the Seam. Katniss makes arrangements for Gale's mother to come over, leaving his young brothers and sisters behind so they don't have to see their brother in this state.

"Get some snow on that," Haymitch orders. Katniss begins to to scoop up handfuls of snow. As we walk, carrying Gale on the stretcher, the rest of the men telling us about what happened before we all showed up. No one knows what happened to our old Head Peacekeeper - he just disappeared, replaced by this new, mean, cold man. Gale was caught and the new guy, Thread, put him under immediate arrest. He was brought to the square and whipped at least forty times, passing out at around thirty.

"Lucky he only had the turkey on him," a man named Bristel says. "If he'd had his usual haul, would've been much worse."

"He told Thread he found it wandering around the Seam. Said it got over the fence and he'd stabbed it with a stick. Still a crime. But if they'd known he'd been in the woods with weapons, they'd have killed him for sure," another man, Thom, tells us.

"What about Darius?" I ask. Darius is a Peacekeeper in our District who many of us know.

"After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn't do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread's arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him," Bristel says.

"Doesn't sound like much good for any of us," Haymitch says. We finally reach Katniss' house as the snow begins to thicken. "New Head," Haymitch says, the small words explanation enough.

Katniss' mother begins to work immediately, pulling Gale onto the table and lying him flat on his stomach. She makes Prim come over to help, too, ordering her to get some herbs and medicines from a cabinet. I watch Katniss' mothers hands work in awe as she soaks a cloth in hot liquid.

She notices Katniss' eye as she works. "Did it cut your eye?" she asks.

"No, it's just swelled shut," she says.

"Get more snow on it," she instructs.

"Can you save him?" Katniss asks, desperate for an answer but her mother doesn't give her one as she wrings the hot cloth out.

"Don't worry," Haymitch says instead, comforting her. "Used to be a lot of whipping before Cray. She's the one we took them to."

Katniss says nothing back, sinking into the sidelines and watching as her mother works on Gale. I put her in a chair when I notice how pale she has become. I hold a cloth full of fresh snow to her cheek to reduce the swelling. Haymitch tells Bristel and Thom to go, pressing a few coins into their hands before they leave.

Gale's mother arrives at last, fresh snow lining the top of her hair. She sits on the stool next to the table, holding Gale's hand so tightly that her fingers go white. Katniss' mother barely notices her entrance, as if in some sort of trance as she works on Gale.

It takes a long, long time. She cleans the wounds then seems to look at his skin, trying to salvage anything that she can before applying some sort of slave and a light bandage. The sight of a wound so bad gives me some slight flashbacks to the Games, back when my leg was cut to the bone. Everything seemed so helpless. _Did Katniss feel the same way she did looking at my injury, as she does now looking at Gale's?_ I think to myself, even though it feels completely inappropriate to be thinking so selfishly right now. I try to focus my energy on Katniss and her cheek, the only real helpful thing I can do right now. Occasionally, I go back in and out for more fresh snow.

When Katniss' mother places the final bandages onto Gale's back, he begins to gain conciousness once more and a moan of pain escapes his lips. Katniss grips her fingernails into her legs at the sound. Gale's mother strokes his hair calmly, whispering into his ear while Katniss' mother and Prim try to go through their painkillers, figuring out what they can do for him.

They decide on some sort of herbal concoction that can be taken by mouth, but Katniss interrupts. "That won't be enough," she says, but she's greeted by blank stares. "That won't be enough, I know how it feels. That will barely knock out a headache."

"We'll combine it with sleep syrup, Katniss, and he'll manage it. The herbs are more for the inflammation-" Katniss mother begins calmly, but Katniss interrupts her swiftly.

"Just give him the medicine!" she screams. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!"

Her passion on Gale hurts me almost. The selfish part in me whispers again, telling me that she never ever was that passionate about my pain. Sure, we were in the Games, but she still never was. She never got upset in the way she just did now.

Gale stirs at the noise of Katniss' voice. "Take her out," Katniss' mother commands. Haymitch nods toward me, and we both go over and carry her from the room. She screams in dissent, mostly at her mother rather than Haymitch and I. We get her up to one of the extra bedrooms in her house and pin her down until she stops fighting us.

She lies down, sobbing out of one eye, tears barely squeezing out the other one. I decide this is the time to tell Haymitch about what Katniss said to me, about the uprisings in District 8 and how what we did wasn't enough for President Snow. "She wants us all to run," I say to him, but my speech is met with silence as Haymitch doesn't offer up his opinion on the matters.

Haymitch and I are sitting on a sofa in the corner of the room, Haymitch lightly snoozing. He wakes up slightly at the arrival of Katniss' mother who arrives after a while to treat her eye. Then, she holds Katniss' hand and strokes her arm lightly. She turns to Haymitch and asks, "So it's starting again?" she says. "Like before?"

Haymitch shakes some sleep off him. "By the looks of it," he answers. "Who'd have thought we'd ever be sorry to see old Cray go?"

I'm not exactly sure what they mean by 'like before', but I'm guessing it doesn't sound good. The doorbell rings, bringing their conversation to a halt. Katniss shoots straight out of bed at the sound, like a dog on edge barking at every sound. It's late in the night, and there aren't many people it could be. The only thing that springs to mind is that it's some Peacekeepers.

"They can't have him," she says, her voice anxious.

"Might be you they're after," Haymitch says.

"Or you," Katniss says.

"Not my house," he points out. "But I'll get the door."

"No, I'll get it," Katniss' mother interjects quietly, but we all follow her down the stairs and to the door anyway. Madge waits outside.

"Use these for your friend," she says, holding out a box full of vials of clear liquid. "They're my mothers. She said I could take them. Use them, please." she continues. I want to catch her eye, talk to her, but she rushes off. It has taken until now that I realise how disconnected we have become since the Games; I've barely seen her.

Still, despite both her slight friendship to Katniss and I separately, I find it slightly odd she would do this for Gale. A person who, as Katniss has told me, was never really that fond of Madge because of her position.

"What is that stuff?" I ask.

"It's from the Capitol. It's called morphling," Katniss' mother answers, naming a strong painkiller that can rarely be given out here. Very rarely. Only really someone as important as the mayor would have it, explaining why Madge gave us it which reminds me of the differences between her and Gale even more.

"I didn't even know Madge knew Gale," I say.

"We used to sell her strawberries," Katniss says, anger tinting her voice.

"She must have quite a taste for them," Haymitch says.

"She's my friend," Katniss says gruffly. I look over to her face, wondering where the sudden anger came from, but I can tell from the expression that lies on her face straight away what's wrong with her. It's something I've seen and felt on my face many a time. Jealously. Jealously for Gale and Madge, and the implications that lie in the morphling she just... gave him.

When the painkiller gets injected into Gale, it's plain to tell that it works straight away. Prim makes all of us eat some stew and bread. Katniss' mother sends both Haymitch and I back to our homes; and Gale's mother goes back to see her little children.

I get back to my house, the morning sun just beginning to dawn. Heartbreak, sadness and exhaustion wave through me, making me feel sick and shaky and just generally weak. When I fall into bed, I let the darkness take me, nightmares of losing Katniss sweeping over and over and over and over...


	9. Chapter 9

**PART ONE | THE SPARK**

 **CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

My sleep is restless and I find myself waking several times during the night. When the sun begins to peak through my curtains and the birds begin to tweet from the window, I decide that I may as well get up. Sluggishly, I walk down to my kitchen and begin to make some bread.

As I knead the ingredients together on the marbled counter, I watch out my window at Katniss' house. A steady stream of smoke comes out from her chimney, indicating that the fire has been burning all night. I wonder what has happened during the night with Gale while I've been tossing and turning in bed. My mind is worried about how both he and Katniss were doing that I can barely think about anything else.

When the bread finishes baking, I take it straight over to Katniss' house, the loaf warming my hands from the freezing cold air. I walk into the kitchen soundlessly, but the sight of her and Gale with their hands intertwined halts me. My heart contracts in my chest, squeezing tightly. It takes me a while, and a barely concealed sad expression, to get the courage to speak. "Go on up to bed, Katniss. I'll look after him now," I say.

"Peeta. About what I said yesterday, about running-" she begins.

"I know," I say, remembering when she asked if I would run away from the District with her. "There's nothing to explain."

"Peeta-"

"Just go to bed, OK?" I say, the words barely squeezing out. She nods and finds her way up the stairs, her legs shaky with tiredness. I place the bread on a kitchen side before sitting down on the same stool Katniss was next to Gale. It's warm from where she's been sitting all night, and even with everything, I can't help but find comfort in the warmth.

Gale's face is stoic within sleep, expressionless and painless. I can see what Katniss sees in him: his handsome facial features of high cheekbones and definition. Even in unconsciousness, spurred by over thirty lashes of a whip, he's still attractive. He would've made a storm in the Capitol if he was chosen for the Games instead of me.

"There's no wonder she chose you," I say to him. His face twitches slightly, as if in understanding. Katniss has chosen him... The words sink in too hard, too heavily.

I can't help but stare at him, full of ugly jealously. But there's something else stirring inside me, too... Anger, I think. Discontent. No word seems to fit the niggling emotion that works away at my brain, filing me with uncomfort as I think of how disgusting the punishment Gale got was. If it wasn't for Katniss' mother, he would have died. Infection, blood loss... It would've happened. How is that a fair punishment?

It isn't. None of it is.

A blizzard racks from out the window, the weather cruel and cold. Snow builds up and I feel as though I should be worrying about my house and if I'll be able to get back in, that I should build the fire up before the storm gets too strong. But instead, numbness replaces any other feeling I should have. Numbness, and heartbreak.

Some noises begin to echo around the house and I realise that I've been sitting here for so long that my leg has gone numb. I get up, stretching it out as I walk around the kitchen in circles. Gale's face begins to to twist up, the pain beginning to hit him again as the painkillers wear off. When Katniss' mother walks in, I'm secretly relived that I don't have to wander around the house looking for her so that she can give Gale some more painkillers. I feel awkward just standing in the kitchen, let alone wandering around their entire house.

Her rubs her eyes sleepily. "How is he?" she asks.

"Been fine up until just now, really," I tell her. "Bread?"

"Please," she says, smiling softly. She begins to work on Gale again, cleaning his wounds and changing his bandages. As I'm cutting up the loaf I baked earlier, Prim joins us both in the kitchen. She greets me politely, taking some bread and making sure I eat some too. She even offers me a small bit of her goats cheese, which I tell her is delicious.

When Katniss' mother is giving Gale some more the fancy morphling that Madge donated to her, there's the faint noise of the shower. Katniss must be awake.

"Well, I guess I should get going," I say, looking away from the ceiling where the noise comes from. "Don't want to leave my house too long in the storm unattended."

"Get back safely, Peeta," Katniss' mother says. "Oh, and take some of this bread for Haymitch, too."

"Are you sure?" I say.

"I'm sure," she says, wrapping the bread up in a protective piece of plastic for me to take to Haymitch. "We have plenty of food here to last through the blizzard. We'll be fine. Thank you for all the help."

I smile at her. "Just call if you need anything, or if there's any updates on Gale," I say, taking the bread.

Both she and Prim bid me a safe farewell. I first head to Haymitch's house, who's too inebriated to even notice my presence. I build up his fire to last him through the blizzard and try to get him to notice the bread that I leave on the table right next to him, but he just grunts and swings his knife before falling back into his drunken sleep.

When I get back, I build up my own fire and change my clothes which are sodden with the wetness of the snow. I put on my baking clothes and bake everything away. I decorate cakes with my misery, I dust bread with my jealousy and I knead bread with my rebellion.

I barely hear the phone ring as I'm cooking, and it almost rings out by the time I reach it. Lifting the phone to my ear, my head is flooded with Katniss' voice. "Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home," she says.

"Katniss, I live three houses away from you," I say.

"I know, but with the weather and all," she says.

"Well, I'm fine. Thank you for checking." I say, stiffly. There's a long pause between us, and I can hear her nervous breathing on the other end of the line. "How's Gale?"

"All right. My mother and Prim are giving him a snow coat now," Katniss tells me.

"And your face?" I ask.

"I've got some, too," she says. "Have you seen Haymitch today?"

"I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread," I say.

"I wanted to talk to- to both of you." she stammers, whispering into the phone.

"Probably have to wait until after the weather calms down," I say. "Nothing much will happen before that, anyway."

"No, nothing much," she agrees.

We're quiet for a little bit before giving goodbyes. The storm lasts for two days, leaving the snow practically as high as the doors. It takes another day before the paths are cleared and the District gets up and running again. As soon as the paths are clear, Katniss calls me again and asks if she can go into town with me, rousing Haymitch to go with us too. Katniss' face looks incredibly sore; the wound in her cheek red and scabby, her eye bruised and black.

Haymitch complains the entire walk into town, but not so much as he usually does. We all know that we need to talk about what happened and about whatever Katniss said she needed to talk to us about, as well. Haymitch is the first to break the silence between the three of us. "So we're all heading off into the great unknown, are we?" he asks. I remember telling him about Katniss' wish to run away.

"No," she says. "Not any more."

"Worked through the flaws in that plan, did you, sweetheart?" he asks. "Any new ideas?"

"I want to start an uprising," she says in a small voice.

Haymitch laughs out loud. "Well, I want a drink. You let me know how that works out for you, though," he says.

"Then what's your plan?" Katniss spits back angrily.

"My plan is to make sure everything is just perfect for your wedding," Haymitch tells her. "I called and rescheduled the photo shoot without giving too many details."

"You don't even have a phone," she points out.

"Effie had that fixed," he says. "Do you know she asked me if I'd like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better."

"Haymitch." Katniss says, her voice pleading. I look at her, her eyes are wide with fear.

"Katniss." Haymitch says, mocking her pleading tone. "It won't work."

A team of mining men walk by the three of us, ending our conversation with a halt. We keep on walking, heading over to the square, but none of us are prepared for what waits for us when we get there. It's not even the same square that we saw just three days ago before the blizzard. How anybody could have transformed any of this while the snow has been raging is beyond me, but here it is. Banners of the Panem seal hang off rooftop; Peacekeepers guard every nook and cranny; machine guns line the roof of the Justice Building, ready to fire; and new punishment tools including whipping posts, stocks and a gallows.

"Thread's a quick worker," Haymitch says.

Some streets away, the Hob market is on fire. The smoke blazes up in billows above us. Katniss is in shock, her mouth hanging open slightly. "Haymitch, you don't think everyone was still in-" she says, but she chokes up before she can finish her own sentence.

"Nah, they're smarter than that. You'd be, too, if you'd been around longer," he says. "Well, I better go and see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare." He trudges off into the square, sniffing his way out to the nearest supply of booze.

Katniss turns to me. "What's he want that for?" she asks, but almost immediately realises the answer as soon as the question comes out her mouth. "We can't let him drink it. He'll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I've got some white liquor put away at home."

"Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business," I say. I look back toward the blaze and wonder if the merchant shops are okay or if they've done something to them too. "I need to check on my family."

"I have to go see Hazelle." Katniss says. It takes me a moment to realise that's Gale's mothers name. Katniss' face is distorted in nervousness, most likely a mix of the situation with Gale and what's happening to the Hob she spent so much time in growing up, so I decide it's best not to leave her alone, especially walking down the newly patrolled streets.

"I'll go, too. Drop by the bakery on my way home," I say.

"Thanks." she says, but the anxiety in her face doesn't disappear.

We walk down the quiet streets, the silence in them unnerving. When we reach Gale's house, his mother is nursing a young girl who looks sick. Katniss tells me it's Gale's sister, Posy. I recognise the measles spots all over her body. "I couldn't leave her," Hazelle says, rocking Posy in her arms. "I knew Gale'd be in the best possible hands."

"Of course," Katniss says. "He's much better. My mother says he'll be back in the mines in a couple of weeks."

"May not be open until then, anyway," she says. "Word is they're closed until further notice."

Both she and Katniss look over to a wash tub, and I remember what Gale's mother does for a living - washes clothes and the such. "You closed down, too?" Katniss asks.

"Not officially," Hazelle says. "But everyone's afraid to use me now."

"Maybe it's the snow," I try to offer, meekly.

Pain goes through Hazelle's eyes when she looks at me. "No, Rory made a quick round this morning. Nothing to wash, apparently," she says.

Rory, who is obviously Gale's brother from their similar faces, wraps his arms around his mother. "We'll be all right." he tells her.

Katniss shoves her hands into her pockets, bringing out a handful of money and laying it on the table with a clatter. "My mother will send something for Posy." she says as we leave them, the light of the doorway shining on them. When we're out, Katniss turns to me. "You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob."

"I'll go with you," I say. There's no way I'm letting her walk by the Hob alone, especially when she's this anxious and with everything going on over there.

"No. I've dragged you into enough trouble," she tells me.

"And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that's going to fix things for me?" I say, jokingly. I grab her hand so that she can't back out of it and stroll down the winding streets of the Seam until we reach the burning buildings and what is left of the Hob. Surprisingly, there aren't any Peacekeepers around.

Through my shoes, I can feel the heat of the burning remains of the buildings. "It's all that coal dust, from the old days," Katniss says. "I want to check on Greasy Sae."

"Not today, Katniss. I don't think we'd be helping anyone by dropping in on them," I tell her. Her lack of a response tells me that I'm right, and even she knows it. Everything that's changing, everything that's happening, it's just not safe. We'd be hurting more people than saving them and neither of us want that.

We go back to the square, leaving dusty shoe prints on the just cleaned tiles. I check in on the bakery, talking to my father about ordinary things like the weather while Katniss buys some cakes. Nobody mentions the fire or the new punishment tools just outside the door.

* * *

A while passes and it's hard to believe, but things get worse. Worse than worse.

It takes two weeks for the mines to open, and even when they do the wages are cut, hours extended and working conditions are even more dangerous. Half of the District is starving, food shortages begin. Kids sign up for tesserae, but they don't even receive their grain or oil. Even when Katniss and I receive our winners parcels, eager to share them with the entire District as much as we can; they food is spoiled and mouldy, rodents crawling all over it. Punishments in the square happen every day.

Gale manages to go home, his back healing nicely and the pain manageable thanks to the morphling that Madge gave him. Katniss helps keep his family in money by making Haymitch hire Hazelle as his housekeepers, which is actually beneficial for him too. It greatly increases the cleanliness of his house even if he's too drunk to even notice Hazelle's presence in his house. Katniss and I are trying to ration the liquor that we have, but it's running out quickly and Haymitch is struggling.

It's not just Haymitch who is suffering, either. Katniss is strictly forbidden to going into the woods. At all. There's no question about it. Every time we pass near the fence, see the trees shaking with the wind in the woods, the longing in her eyes is undeniable. All she wants is to go out there, be in the woods against the trees and the shrubbery, the wilderness that she knows so well.

But one day, it's too much for her.


	10. Chapter 10

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

Katniss is gone the entire day.

By late afternoon, my phone rings. "Peeta, have you seen Katniss?" I recognise the voice immediately as Katniss' mother.

"I... I haven't," I say, confused and slightly worried, my stomach beginning to churn.

"We haven't seen her all day," she continues. "She told us she was shopping around the market but most the stalls will have closed by now."

"Yes," I agree, but she doesn't seem to hear me. "Listen, Mrs. Everdeen, why don't I come over? She's probably just gotten deep in conversation with my father back at the bakery or the sort." I try to sound light, giving a reasonable excuse that isn't actually likely at all. The phones here are most definitely bugged and being listened to by the Capitol. If they knew Katniss was out hunting in the woods, they may make even more terrible changes within the District.

Katniss' mother seems to catch onto my train of thought and agrees. Swiftly, I walk over to Haymitch's, grab him and tell him what's going on as soon as we're outside. It's likely the houses are bugged, too. Haymitch gruffly says something about Katniss' over-confidence which I try to shake off.

To be honest, I'm not surprised that Katniss has gone off into the woods. I am shaking with worry, but I keep thinking about the face that I saw on her when we were standing near the fence one day, walking back from town.

Her face was yellowed in the evening dusk glow, her eyes closed as she felt the sweet, warm wind blowing against her face. A small smile spread across her lips; and I realised it was one of the first real smiles I've ever seen. It's probably one of the most beautiful times with her I've experienced, my eyes were barely able to stop looking at her.

When Haymitch and I reach Katniss' house, her mother is pacing around the kitchen while Prim slowly cuts up some greens on the side, standing on a small stool so that she can reach. I can see that's not truly concentrating on the greens, and rather just listening. I watch her as Haymitch and Katniss' mother go on about what Katniss was doing today (or at least, what she _told_ us she was going to do). I'm not surprised that Katniss compared Prim with Rue in her mind. They're both of such similar stature and both slim as anything. Their moves are as dainty as little birds. No, little ducks.

The sun begins to set in the sky and all of us sit tersely around the kitchen table. Prim has given up pretending to cook, and there's not much point of talking because it's too risky to talk aloud properly knowing that someone may be listening.

We wait and we wait and we wait, but the only thing that comes through the doorway are two Peacekeepers who demand to know where Katniss is.


	11. Chapter 11

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

* * *

The two Peacekeepers walk straight into the kitchen, their boots stomping on the ground heavily, leaving a wet trail on the wooden floors. "Good evening, may I help you?" Katniss' mother says, a little too politely. Haymitch goes tense at her tone, the falseness of it shining through like a torch.

"We're looking for Katniss Everdeen." one of the barks at us.

"May I ask what for?" she says, in the same sweet voice.

"That is not for your information." the other one says.

Haymitch decides to intervene, knowing that Katniss' mother isn't going to pull this off. We don't know exactly how long we'll be waiting for Katniss to come back, and we need to be as natural and normal as possible or else they'll know that something is up."Look, I'm her mentor and Katniss Everdeen, the little _darling_ of the Capitol, is my prodigy and thanks to the last time you lot had your hands on her I had to cancel a very important wedding photo shoot," Haymitch snarls in his normal sarcastic voice. "So if you wouldn't mind telling me exactly what you need her for, I would like that very much.

One of the Peacekeepers looks as if they're about to say something, but the other holds their hand up to stop them. "We have a message for her from Thread." they say with a finality to their tone.

"Alright," Haymitch says. "Well, Peeta, what have you heard from your... darling fiancée?"

"She's been out shopping in the market most the day," I say. "Told me she was going to stop off at some traders. Always been close with them, so I guess she's late home chatting to them."

"Typical. Can't get her to stop chatting when she's off the cameras, but on camera, her mouth is glued shut," Haymitch snorts. He turns back to the Peacekeepers, as if he's forgotten that they're even there. "Well, if you're going to insist on waiting for her to come back, I'm not going to wait with you. Peeta, chess?"

I nod, as if this idea of playing chess with Haymitch is a fantastic way to spend our night together. We walk over to living room that adjoins the open-plan kitchen and set out the chess set. Both Prim and Katniss' mother take our lead, making little chit chat to themselves and pretending as though the Peacekeepers aren't standing like robots at the edge of the doorway. Prim decides to sit by the hearth of the fire, reading but not really reading. I watch as her eyes slide off the page, unable to concentrate on any of the words. Katniss' mother begins to make dinner, picking up from where Prim left off cutting the greens, but incredibly slowly, dragging the process out as if it'll make the wait for Katniss seem not as long as it is.

While it feels like hours pass, it's probably much less before Katniss walks into the doorway, the sound of her boots filling the hallway. "Hello," she says in an estranged voice as she notices the Peacekeepers in the doorway.

"Here she is, just in time for dinner," Katniss' mother says, in her overly bright voice.

Katniss pulls off her hood and shakes the snow from her hair. "Can I help you with something?" she asks the Peacekeepers.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," the woman said.

"They've been waiting for hours," Katniss' mother adds on. It implies a heavy question: _where have you been_?

"Must be an important message," Katniss says.

"May we ask where you've been, Miss Everdeen?" the woman asks.

Katniss works the charade well. "Easier to ask where I _haven't_ been," she says, sighing heavily as she flings her bag onto the table. She surveys the kitchen, taking in Haymitch and I playing chess (which I can imagine how odd it looks), Prim by the fire and her mother cooking.

"So where haven't you been?" Haymitch asks, his voice bored as if he couldn't care less.

"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," Katniss says pointedly to Prim.

"No I didn't," she says indignantly. "I told you exactly."

"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine," Katniss says.

"The east entrance," Prim corrects her.

"You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap? and you said 'Yeah,'" Katniss recites.

"The slag heap next to the _east_ entrance," Prim says.

"No. When did you say that?" Katniss asks.

"Last night," Haymitch chimes in, as if he was there. As if this was all real.

I can't help but admire how well all of them are acting. I decide I need to join in. "It was definitely the east," I add. Haymitch and I let out a small laugh, which get us a glare from Katniss. "I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you."

"Bet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," Haymitch jokes.

"Shut up, Haymitch," Katniss says. Haymitch and I crack up again, our laughter louder. Prim even gives a small smile. "Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up," Katniss continues, which makes us all fake laugh even more. I can't even help but admire my own acting skills now, too.

Katniss turns to the Peacekeepers, trying to see what effect our little play out has had on them. The man is smiling to himself, but the woman is unconvinced. "What's in the bag?" she spits. My heart squeezes. If she's been in the woods, she's probably got some sort of game or wild plants in there that would give her away.

"See for yourself." Katniss says, tipping the contents on the table.

I get up the table, noticing bandages, sweets and other assorted non-guilty items that fill my body with relief. "Oh, good," Katniss' mother says. "We're running low on bandages."

"Ooh, peppermints," I say, popping open the bag of sweets and putting one in my mouth.

"They're mine." Katniss says, sweeping for the bag, but I toss it over to Haymitch who stuffs loads of the sweets into his mouth. He gives the bag to Prim after that, and it's almost as if we're playing piggy in the middle with Katniss. "None of you deserves sweets!" she says to us all.

"What, because we're right?" I say, wrapping my arms around her, but instead of leaning into it to appear like the sweet couple we're supposed to be, she gives a yelp of pain. She tries to turn it into something else, but I know that it was a noise of pain and nothing else. I raise my eyebrow, but I try to diffuse the situation. "OK, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we're all idiots. How's that?"

"Better," she says, accepting the kiss that I plant onto her lips. She turns to the Peacekeepers. "You have a message for me?" she asks.

"From Head Peacekeeper Thread," the woman says. "He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District 12 will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day."

"Didn't it already?" she says in a sick, sweet voice. My stomach knots again in worry, though. The electricity must have been what kept Katniss behind for so long. How exactly did she hurt herself?

"He thought you might be interested in passing the information on to your cousin," the Peacekeeper says.

"Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse." Katniss says. The Peacekeepers mouth tightens as Katniss' fiery attitude comes out a little more, but there isn't much more they can do so they both give curt nods and leaves.

As soon as they leave, Katniss slumps against the table, a noise of pain trailing from her mouth as she does so. "What is it?" I ask her immediately, trying to hold her.

"Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone's had a bad day, too." she tells me. I help to lead her over to one of the soft chairs to rest herself on nicely.

Her mother crouches down beside her, easing boots off. "What happened?" she asks.

"I slipped and fell," she says, but she's met with disbelief in all of our expressions. "On some ice." she adds, making us all realise once again that the house is bugged and we can't talk safely here. Not now.

"There might be a break," Katniss' mother tells her as she strips of Katniss' socks. She checks out her right foot. "This one seems all right." She then judges her tail-bone, saying it's probably badly bruised.

Prim goes off to get Katniss' pyjamas and helps her change into them by the fire. When Katniss is changed, we all have dinner of stew and bread and Katniss eats three entire bowls. The fire crackles as the night wears on, and the atmosphere between us all seems a lot calmer. I'm even beginning to enjoy the games of chess that Haymitch and I are playing together.

"How was school?" Katniss asks Prim, who sits with her head on Katniss' knee. She strokes her soft blonde hair as they suck on the peppermint sweets Katniss bought earlier.

"All right. We learned about coal by-products," she says. "Are you going to try on your wedding dresses?"

"Not tonight. Tomorrow probably," Katniss says.

"Wait until I get home, OK?" she says.

"Sure."

Katniss' mother brews some sweet chamomile tea, slipping some sleep syrup into Katniss' cup. It reminds me sharply how Katniss tricked me with the sleep syrup and berry concoction back in the Games just to save me. The memory brings a fresh wave of sadness and heartbreak as I remember how strongly I truly thought Katniss cared about me, loved me, wanted me to stay alive.

I volunteer to get Katniss to bed, carrying her in my arms. I go into her room, which is much barer than my own full of paintings back in my own house, and tuck her into bed. As I'm about to walk away with my goodnight hanging in the air, she catches my hand and holds onto it. "Don't go yet. Not until I fall asleep," she says.

I fall to the floor by the side of her bed, encapsulating her hand in both of my own. "Almost thought you'd changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner."

"No, I'd have told you," Katniss says. She pulls one of my hands up to her face, leaning her cheek against the back of it and inhaling deeply. Deep down, I know she's just in a state of low inhibition due to the sleep syrup, but my heart warms with her actions. Everything about these moments reminds me of the time I thought she loved me, truly loved me. "Stay with me."

"Always." I say, but she's fallen into sleep and didn't hear my words. It takes all of me to try to leave her, to try to remind myself that she's just in a sleep syrup induced state and that she doesn't love me. She loves Gale.

* * *

Days go by and spring comes around. I go by the Katniss' house every single day to bring her cheese buns (a new favourite) and help her to work on a family book she started to document plants and flowers. She told me she wanted to record all of her families knowledge into it, with her father's advice about edible plants and her mothers about medical uses and everything she knows herself, too. I help her as an artist: she describes the plants, bringing me samples whenever she can, and I sketch them onto the heavy parchment paper. Then, she puts down all the information she knows about the plant.

It takes up a lot of our time, but I don't mind. I get to spend my whole days with her and her lovely family from time to time. It's quiet work, but I love hearing the tales about her father and times in the woods. I love watching her print out the information carefully into the book, her face full of concentration. Her tongue sticks out slightly of her mouth as she puts the words onto the paper, locked onto the task.

One afternoon, when I'm shading a blossom into the book, I notice that Katniss is staring at me. I look straight up at her, our eyes locking onto each other. There's an intense, fizzing chemistry between us and I want to reach over and touch the braid that frames her soft face. "You know, I think this is the first time we've ever done anything normal together."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Nice for a change."

I fall into her eyes. I fall in love.


	12. Chapter 12

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

* * *

The hardship of winter passes slowly.

My days are spend mixed with Katniss, working on the plant family book and baking back in the family bakery, generally trying to keep busy. One day, Katniss is away the entire day getting dolled up for her wedding photo-shoot and I'm banned from going anywhere near her house. Effie Trinket even came along to the shoot and trilled at me that: "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day!"

If any of it were real, even Effie's shrill voice would have filled me with some sort of excitement, but none of it is. I hide until the next day in the family bakery, hoping to not catch sight of Effie or any of her other little Capitol birds and camera people. Sleeping back in my old room is strange. The air is stale, my bedsheets feel scratchy against my skin. It's unbelievable just how much I've gotten used to my house in the Victors Village in the small months I've been living there. It's not full of abhorrent memories of my mother abusing me, shouting at me. While my house does have the nightmares from the Games, at least it doesn't have my other memories following me, too.

That afternoon, I move back into my house and spend the afternoon painting out some scenes I saw in my sleep the night before. Before I even know it, the TV turns itself on with the noise that indicates mandatory viewing programming emitting from the speakers. I look out the window, my brow furrowing at the dark sky. _How did it get to evening so quickly?_ I wonder to myself.

Brushing the flour off my hands and wiping them down my apron, I sit down on my sofa and bask in the glow of the television. I try to wonder exactly what must be going on for mandatory viewing - perhaps Katniss' wedding dress photos are ready to watch already, even though it was just a day ago.

Caeser Flickerman stands before a crowd on the screen. He introduces Cinna, Katniss' stylist. They have some good chit-chat, in a Caeser-like fashion, about Cinna's design process and how he narrowed his choices down. He tells us how in the Capitol there was a voting system for what dress you liked the most. I can't help but think bitterly about how whether it's your death or your wedding, our lives are just big games to them. Like dolls in a doll-house.

They go through all of the wedding dress photos, a couple dresses that the Capitol have to vote on. "Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" Caeser hollers. I try to focus on the way Katniss looks, waiting for some sort of magical feeling inside me about seeing her in a wedding dress, but the fakeness of the entire wedding just rings in my ears. Caeser begins to round the show off and I'm about to switch off the television grumpily when he tells the audience that this was just the first big part of the show. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"

The anthem begins to boom out the television and my stomach tightens in nerves, my brain completely forgetting what Katniss looked like in her wedding dresses. President Snow takes the stage, followed by a young boy who holds a box. When the anthem ends, the President speaks the same speech you hear at every Hunger Games reaping - the one of the Dark Days, the rebellion, from which the Games were born. He tells us how every twenty five years, the anniversary is marked by a Quarter Quell; a glorified, more horrible version of the Games with a nasty twist.

I find it hard to imagine exactly what twist they'll be giving, especially with the tense atmosphere that the Districts have all had because of Katniss and I. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every District was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent." the President reminds us. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every District was required to send twice as many tributes."

The force of that really hits me - twenty three other tributes was hard enough. I can't imagine the chaos that forty seven would mark. I also remember that the fiftieth was the Games that Haymitch won.

"And now we honour our third Quarter Quell," President Snow says. The little boy steps forward, handing the box over with the lid open. The President removes the envelope labelled with 75 in a beautiful cursive print and runs his finger to open the flap. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Something punches my stomach and all the air leaves me.

Existing pool of victors. There's only three victors in District 12. Haymitch and me are the two males. Katniss the only female.

That means she's going back into the arena.


	13. Chapter 13

**PART TWO** **| THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

* * *

I hear a scream and undeniably know that it belongs to Katniss.

But I can't go to her yet. As much as it pains me, the first person I visit is Haymitch.

I leave my house, the night air hitting my bare face and arms cruelly. A dark knot of nausea fizzes in my stomach, bile rising to my throat as I hear more screams and bangs and cries. I know she doesn't mean to be so loud and unrelenting with her pain and sadness at the shock and horror of the news, but it hurts to know she's alone and that the only thing I can do to help isn't enough. It isn't enough.

Reaching my hand out to Haymitch's unlocked door, I look around into the night sky. Screams on top of screams. "Katniss," I say, her name escaping my lips and warming them. Swallowing hard, I twist the doorknob and go inside.

"Let me guess," I hear Haymitch's voice from the kitchen. "You're here to do something stupid."

"No, it's not stupid," I reply, walking to the kitchen. I take a seat across from him. In his hands is a freshly opened bottle of white liquor, the smell intoxicating the room. It's his usual coping method and I can't say I expected any different.

Haymitch took a hearty swig of the liquid. "I won't let you do this, kid."

"Do what? Protect her?" I say, my voice rising. I can't tell if the anger is directed at him, the Capitol, the Games... it's most likely a mix of the three, but right now, he's the only one that I can take the bubble of rage inside my veins out on. "I have to. She... she has to live. I will always protect her."

Haymitch snorts, drinking more and not holding back his snarly tongue. "What does it say about her that she's out there, screaming for her own life when you're in here begging to save hers? Is that really a life you want to save?"

I grab the bottle from his hand, whack it down hard on the table. It doesn't smash, but it has the desired effect on Haymitch. Anger bubbles up beneath his eyes. "Yes. It is. I love her, Haymitch. I... I..." I stutter. I have rarely said the words aloud before, admitting that I do love her. Hot tears drip from my eyes slowly, my hands shake. I grab onto the table, hard, my knuckles whitening, and try to breathe through the tightness within my chest.

"You love her." Haymitch says. He melts a little from his icy and angry exterior, putting his hand on my shoulder. I sink into the touch, more tears drowning across my cheeks.

"Yes. So please, Haymitch, if my name... if my name gets said up there, don't you dare volunteer," I say. "And please, please protect her. Do everything to help her survive. I don't know if I'll get any sponsors but if I do, so be it give everything to her. Give her anything. Do everything. You... you chose to protect her in the first Games. You owe me. Please let me go back in so I can protect her, and give my life up for hers if I need to."

He lets go of my shoulder, and grabs his knife. He begins to carve into his table, making deep nonsensical grooves, while taking another swig of the liqueur. "She doesn't deserve you."

This time, it's my turn to snort. "I don't care," I say. "I don't care. I love her."

I don't feel the need to say much else, so I get him and let him drink himself into oblivion. I'm not sure when Katniss stopped screaming, but as I go, I notice that the Victors Village is quiet once more. I step back into my dark house, not bothering to turn on the lights, and fall into bed.

I let myself cry. I let myself feel the pain of giving up, of death, of going back in, of facing it all again. I tell myself that it's okay to grieve my own death, but I know it's for the best. I know I need to die so that Katniss can live. And to protect her, we both need to be stonger.

My eyelids droop, sleep coming from the heaviness of the tears. As I drift into slumber, my head begins to work out just how I can make us both stronger to win these Games against a bunch of previous killers.

* * *

When I wake, I get to work. I shower, eat a hearty and healthy breakfast and start putting things in place to get us all better and stronger.

Halfway through the day, I'm at Haymitch's when Katniss comes over. I look brightly to her, heaving a box of empty bottles onto the kitchen table. "There, it's done," I say with finality.

"What's done?" she asks. Her voice is groggy, and it's plain to see from her red, bloodshot eyes that she joined Haymitch in drinking away the pain last night.

"I've poured all the liquor down the drain," I say.

Haymitch suddenly jumps up, jolting across the room. "You what?" he asks in disbelief, searching through the box of empty bottles.

"I tossed the lot," I say.

"He'll just buy more," Katniss says.

"No, he won't," I say. "I tracked down Ripper this morning and told her I'd turn her in the second she sold to either of you. I paid her off, too, just for good measure, but I don't think she's eager to be back in the Peacekeepers' custody."

Haymitch is clearly still drunk, and attempts to swipe me with his knife, but it's such a pathetic blow that all I have to is lean away to deflect it. Katniss' eyes focus on me. "What business is it of yours what he does?" she asks, anger lining her voice.

"It's completely my business. However it falls out, two of us are going to be in the arena again with the other as a mentor. We can't afford any drunkards on this team. Especially not you, Katniss," I say, singling her out. I can't help but think that she believes I don't know about her adventures with the liquor last night.

"What?" she says, her voice completely unconvincing. "Last night's the only time I've ever been drunk."

"Yeah, and look at the shape you're in," I say, hoping my honesty and slight humour break the tension a bit. I'm slightly worried Haymitch will attempt to stab me again once he's going through the withdrawal of the liquor.

Katniss turns to Haymitch. "Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor." she says, as if I wasn't even there.

"Then I'll turn you both in. Let you sober up in the stocks," I say, stubborn.

"What's the point to this?" asks Haymitch.

I sigh. "The point is that two of are coming home from the Capitol. One mentor and one victor," I explain getting annoyed and frustrated by both of their lack of care. "Effie's sending me recordings of all the living victors. We're going to watch their Games and learn everything we can about how they fight. We're going to put on weight and get strong. We're going to start acting like Careers. And one of us is going to be victor again whether you like it or not!"

I sweep out the room. Partly the anger from last night, anger at being shoved back into these Games when we're supposed to be immune victors, and partly the anger at Katniss getting drunk last night, makes me slam the front door behind me.

* * *

It takes a few days of convincing and a cold shoulder from me, but they come around. Every morning we exercise, strengthening our muscles. We throw knifes, better our combat skills, fight hand to hand. While Katniss and I excel, our bodies getting stronger, but Haymitch's takes a long time to get back into the regime.

Katniss teaches us how to climb trees and even a bit of hunting, and Gale teaches us about snare making and traps every Sunday. Katniss' mother sets us strict healthy diets, while her sister, Prim, treats our sore and overworked muscles. Madge Undersee, the Mayors daughter, sneaks us in Capitol newspapers so we an learn all about predictions on victor favourites.

Every night the three of us watch old recaps of the Games, seeing all of the remaining victors. Re-watching the previous Games is hard. I take copious amounts of notes, reducing people into one group personalities and special skills, how many kills they've done. Haymitch tells us all he knows about certain victors and their personalities.

No one cares that it's technically against the rules that tributes can't train. Why would they?

* * *

The reaping comes by quicker than I anticipated. My days have been so strict and regimented, I didn't realise how fast time was flying by.

It's hot, and my nervous energy just makes me even hotter. I sweat through two shirts before the reaping has even begun.

When it reaches two, Katniss stands alone in a cordoned off area in the square. I stand with Haymitch in a different cordoned off area, across from hers. The reaping passes by in a flash with so few names and so few people, but everyone in the district is watching. It's no doubt that the whole of the Capitol is watching, too.

Effie pulls out Katniss' name. Tears brim on her eyes. She marches over to the boys bowl, where the lowly two pieces of paper that decide my fate sit. Haymitch said he'd let me go in and protect her, but I know I can't ever fully trust that. My heart feels like it stops beating, and I feel sweat drip down the small of my back.

Grabbing a piece of paper, she walks back over to the microphone. "Haymitch-"

"I volunteer," I say, barely even letting Haymitch's name pass her lips.

I walk up to the stage, take my place beside her and avoid Katniss' eye. Something tells me she won't be happy, even though she knows this would happen. Of course it would.

We get whisked away by unknown Peacekeepers. Their tight grisp on my arm would normally hurt, but my new, stronger muscles barely feel their grip.

We're not allowed to say our goodbyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

* * *

Normally, Katniss shows when she's upset by being angry or aggressive; but now she is simply staring out the train window, a grim sober expression resting on her face, the dark circles of her eyes drooping. When she's isn't angry upset, that is when you know she's truly upset.

"We'll write letters, Katniss," I offer. "It'll be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Haymitch will deliver them for us if... they need to be delivered."

But as I expected, my words do nothing to console her. Instead, she nods, gets up and disappears to her carriage. I don't go to her, knowing that nothing I can say will give her back the hugs and kisses from her sister Prim, her mother and Gale. Nothing but my death in the arena will give her that.

By the time dinner comes around, the evening light has settled in the sky. I find myself calmed by the beautiful orange hues mixing with the light pinks. The meal is quiet; my efforts of conversation met by grumbles and passive acknowledgement around the table. Only Effie really attempts to talk to me.

"I love your new hair, Effie," I say to her, admiring the glittering gold colour that sat atop her head.

"Thank you. I had it especially done to match Katniss' pin. I was thinking we might you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," Effie replies.

I try to smile. "I think that's a great idea," I say. "How about it, Haymitch?"

"Yeah, whatever," he says. He's been in consistently bad moods since coming off the alcohol. Coming to the Capitol without being drunk must be a slight nightmare for him. Normally, he'd be so wasted that nothing would feel real for him, and now he has to truly live it. I try not to let his pain and upset bother me, knowing that I need Haymitch to be sober to help Katniss survive.

Katniss tries to join in the conversation, probably sensing Haymitch's mood and wishing his pain away just as much as me. "Maybe we could get you a wig, too," she says. A small grin crosses my face, but a snarl crosses Haymitch's.

"Shall we watch a recap of the reapings?" says Effie, dabbing her lips with a perfectly white napkin.

Even though I'm not feeling okay enough to sit through them, I disappear off to get my notebook full of information about the remaining tributes anyway and join everyone in the compartment with the television. This is our first time seeing who our competition will be in the arena, and my stomach twists in anticipation.

Studiously and meticulously, I make notes about the tributes that come up. I drown out Effie's sighs comments of, "Oh, not Cecelia!" and "Chaff never could really stay out of a fight," and focus on my notebook.

There's a few who stick out as real, fierce competition. A volunteer from District 2, Brutus. Finnick Odair, the District 4 tribute who won at only fourteen years old. An older woman volunteers in place of the girl who is reaped, and my head awfully thinks about how easy she will be to take out. In District 7, there's a bloodthirsty girl, Johanna Mason who is reaped. She's the only living female victor from the District, but she sure is deadly looking and angry. Even angrier than Katniss, and that's some competition.

We watch ourselves get reaped. It's surreal seeing myself volunteer, seeing Effie cry. The screen goes black just after the presenters of the recap gets teary, saying how we star-crossed lovers from District 12 will never have the odds be in our favour.

Haymitch leaves the compartment as soon as the recap finishes. Effie makes a few little comments about this or that tribute before bidding us goodnight. I take little notice, trying to dissociate myself from everything. I rip out the pages and pages of notes about victors who weren't chosen.

I notice that Katniss is still sitting on the sofas, staring blankly at the screen. "Why don't you get some sleep?" I say, trying to soften my voice.

"What are you going to do?" she asks.

I sigh. "Just review my notes awhile. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. But I'll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, Katniss," I say.

She leaves, and I watch her as she walks out. My heart aches, but I can't pay attention to it. I need to work out who we're fighting, what they're skills are. Deep down, I know that I can't do that from pictures and re-watching the recap again. I'm going to have to watch their Games to truly know what they're like and how we can beat them so that Katniss can survive and go home and live the life she deserves.

I'm not sure how long I'm sitting watching before I hear someone come into the room. Brutus, the volunteer from District 2, is on the television screen, stalking a fellow tribute in order to kill him. I flip the tape off quickly and rise to my feet, turning around. I feel slightly relieved seeing Katniss. I was worried it would be Haymitch, and he would've seen something he didn't want to by seeing the old Games on the television.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask her.

"Not for long," she says. She pulls her robe around her, looking vulnerable and small. I know what she means by this. Nightmares woke her. They wake me, too. Katniss and I used to sleep together, to ward off the nightmares, or just so that when we woke, someone would be there to hold the other. But we haven't done that since Gale got whipped, and since I saw what was between them.

"Want to talk about it?" I ask. But she shakes her head. I notice she's shivering, and can't help but hold out my arms, almost begging to touch her and hug her and hold her so that she's safe within me.

She walks straight into the hug, and I can tell it's been too long since I've offered this. Her fingers dig into me, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around my neck. I melt, melancholy enveloping me, and pull her tighter and bury my face within her hair, my lips slightly touching her neck. It warms all of me. Part of me didn't realise how much I needed this, too. I don't know how I'll ever let her go.

We stay like this for a long while, only breaking apart when the arrival of a Capitol attendant brings us in a steaming ceramic jug of warm milk with a pair of mugs.

"I brought an extra cup," the attendant says.

"Thanks," Katniss replies.

"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he keeps going. He looks at us both, his eyes switching between us. He looks like he wants to say more, but he shakes his head, sadness in his eyes, and leaves.

"What's with him?" Katniss asks.

"I think he feels bad for us," I say.

"Right," Katniss says, pouring the milk evenly into the two mugs.

"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," I say. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions."

"I'm guessing they'll get over it one the blood starts flowing," Katniss says flatly. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?"

"Not really. Just sort of skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques," I say.

"Who's next?" Katniss asks.

"You pick," I hold out the box of tapes.

Each tape is marked with a year of the Games and the name of the victor. Katniss picks out the one I've been avoiding - Haymitch's tape. "We've never watched this one," she says.

I shake my head. "No. I knew Haymitch didn't want to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered that much."

"Is the person who won twenty-five in here?" Katniss asks.

"I don't think so. Whoever won it must be dead by now, and Effie only sent me victors we might have to face." I say. I feel the weight of Haymitch's tape in my hands. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?"

"It's the only Quell we have. We might pick up something valuable about how they work," she says, and I see her point. There's only been two Quells in the history of the Games, and only one of them is in this box. "We don't have to tell Haymitch we saw it."

"Okay," I agree. I shove the tape into the player and sit back down on the couch. Katniss curls up into me, cradling her mug of hot milk. I think about how nice this might be in a different world, a different life. One where we're not shoved together from fate, one where we aren't watching our friend kill others and fight for his life on the television.

The tape starts by showing President Snow, much younger, read out what the Quell will be. He tells us that for the 50th Hunger Games, there will be twice the number of tributes. It then cuts to the reapings, where name after endless name is called. It's unreal how many people are going into this, and how many people Haymitch had to fight. By the time we reach District 12, it's already becoming too much for me.

A woman, who isn't Effie, calls out the names of the tributes. "Maysilee Donner." she says.

"Oh!" Katniss says, straightening her posture. "She was my mothers friend."

The camera finds Maysilee in the crowd. She's a small blonde girl, beautiful. She hugs another blonde girl, who is equally as beautiful. "I think that's your mother hugging her," I say so quietly that I'm surprised Katniss can hear me. Another blonde girl joins the pair.

"Madge," Katniss whispers.

"That's her mother." I correct. "She and Maysilee were twins or something. My dad mentioned it once." I recall my mind, remembering the way he said their names. It's clear they were all so close. And the Games ripped them apart.

Eventually, Haymitch's is name is called, and his is the last. It's a shock to see him so young looking and strong. He even looks rather attractive, and seems like a typical Seam boy with his dark hair and gray eyes. He looks slightly dangerous, angry even back then.

"Oh. Peeta, you don't think he killed Maysilee, do you?" Katniss burts out.

"With forty-eight players? I'd say the odds are against it," I say.

Next thing we know, the chariots are riding out with all the tributes from the Districts fully costumed up and ready. The interviews flash by, with the main focus being on Haymitch as we already know he's going to be the victor of these Games.

For this year, Caeser has dressed himself all in green: dark green hair, eyelids and lips. "So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?" he asks.

Haymitch shrugs. "I don't see it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same." The audience laughs, and he gives them a half smile, the same arrogance and snarky attitude that he has now shining through.

He didn't have to reach far for that, did he?" Katniss says.

The television switches to the morning that the Games begin. We watch from a point of view of a tribute, I'm not sure which, as they rise up from the tube in the Launch Room and into the arena. I'm taken aback by the place, my breath staying sharply within my chest.

It's breathtakingly beautiful. The Cornucopia sits in the middle of a bright green meadow, patches of beautifully bright flowers, the baby blue sky shining down brightly and the sun harsh. Songbirds twitter and flutter. A lot of the tributes are sniffing exaggeratedly and I wonder to myself if the place smelt as good as it looks.

An aerial shot shows us the meadows that stretch for miles upon miles, and in another direction a bright welcoming woods, and finally, in another direction, a mountain that has a capping of snow on the top.

The bell goes, the Games start. Most of the players are slow, still taking in the beauty of the arena, but Haymitch is on his feet straight away. He's quick, straight into the Cornucopia and arming himself with weapons and backpack full of supplies. He's into the woods before even some of the tributes have stepped of the pedestals.

Eighteen tributes get killed within the bloodbath, and others die off quickly. It's clear that almost everything within the beautiful arena is deadly. The fruit that looks so juicy and appetising, the crystal clear stream water, the scents of the flowers... all of it is poisonous. Only rainwater and the food from the Cornucopia is safe to consume.

A large, well-stocked Career pack of ten tributes search through the arena, focusing on the mountain area, for their victims. Meanwhile, Haymitch has troubles over in the woods, fighting a bunch of vicious golden squirrels and avoiding the agonising stings of insects that line the trees and the grass.

Maysilee is resourceful too, to my surprise. She leaves the Cornucopia with just a small backpack, but the stark contents seem to last her. She makes ready use of the poisons of the arena, making poison darts to sink to opponents flesh to kill them.

Four days into the Games, the mountain erupts and we realise that it's actually a volcano. It wipes out a huge proportion of the players, leaving only half the Career pack still alive. There are only thirteen left playing at this point, and they all head for the woods.

Haymitch seems to be going somewhere, hell-bent on continuing in the same direction away from the volcanic mountain, but a maze of hedges lead him to three Careers who're out hunting. They're all bigger and stronger than him, but Haymitch's speed is unreal, and he's already killed two of them by the time the third Career disarms him. Haymitch is seconds away from having his throat slit, when someone shoots a dart into the Careers back.

"We'd live longer with two of us." a voice says. It's Maysilee Donner. She steps out the woods, into the small clearing.

"Guess you just proved that," Haymitch says. "Allies?"

Maysilee nods.

Just like Katniss and I, they work well together in the Games. They get more rest, work out a system to get them more of the drinkable rain water and fight as a team. Haymitch still seems determined to move on, though, in the direction that he was going.

"Why?" Maysilee keeps asking, but he ignores her. They keep this up until Maysilee gets annoyed and refuses to move until he tells her why they're walking in this direction.

"Because it has to end somewhere, right?" Haymitch says. "The arena can't go on forever."

"What do you expect to find?" she asks.

"I don't know. But maybe there's something we can use," he says.

Somehow, the pair of them make it through the hedge. They find themselves on the flat, dry earth of a cliff. Below, all you can see is jagged rocks.

"That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back," Maysilee says.

"No, I'm staying here," he says.

She sighs. "All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway," she resigns. "I don't want it to come down to you and me."

"Okay," he agrees. And that's that. She walks away, their alliance broken.

Haymitch skirts along the edge of the cliff, as if trying to figure something out. His foot kicks a pebble into the abyss, and it falls straight down, gone. A minute later, however, the pebble shoots back up to him. Haymitch stares, puzzled. His facial expression is intense as he tries to work something out.

He throws a fist-sized rock off the cliff, and sure enough, it flies back up a minute later and right back into his hand. He laughs to himself.

Then, a scream. Maysilee. Haymitch can't help but run toward wherever her noise came from, but he arrives too late. A flock of pink birds have killed her, their beaks like swords through her neck. He sinks to his knees and holds her while she dies, not caring about the blood that seeps onto his clothes. I hold Katniss tighter, knowing she's thinking of how she did the same when Rue died, and how horrible this must be to see for her especially.

Two more tributes die later that day, and Haymitch is in the final two. It's him verses a girl from District 1. She's bigger than him, just as fast, and when the fight comes, both Katniss and I know that it will be terrible. I can't help but feel scared for Haymitch's life, as stupid as it may seem as I know he wins and survives.

It's more brutal than I could've imagined. They both receive fatal wounds, and Haymitch ends up being disarmed. The girl throws her axe at him, but Haymitch swerves, and the axe falls into the abyss off the cliff. He collapses to the ground, convulsing, trying to hold his own intestines in; while the girl tries to slow down the bleeding from her head where her eye used to be. They stay quiet, trying to outlast the others wounds.

But what she doesn't know, that Haymitch does know, is that the axe will come flying back. And when it does, it buries itself into her head. The canon booms, marking her death, and trumpets blow to announce Haymitch's victory.

I click off the tape. I feel sick to the core, and I can tell Katniss does too. We sit in silence for a few moments, grieving the long dead.

Finally, I break the silence. "That force field at the bottom of the cliff, it was like the one on the roof of the Training Centre. The one that throws you back if you try to jump off and commit suicide. Haymitch found a way to turn it into a weapon."

"Not just against the other tributes, but the Capitol, too," Katniss replies. "You know they didn't expect that to happen. It wasn't meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that he figured it out. I bet they had a good idea trying to spin that one. Bet that's why I don't remember seeing it on television. It's almost as bad as us and the berries!"

Katniss laughs a little. I shake my head, bewildered how she can find any humour in this, even if it's humour against the Capitol.

"Almost, but not quiet," Haymitch says from behind us. We both whip around, afraid he'll be angry with us for watching his Games, but instead he just gives us a small smirk and takes a swig from a bottle of wine. I don't have it within me to reprimand him for drinking. In fact, after watching his Games, I almost feel the need for a drink myself. I find myself full of sudden respect for him for getting through so much pain, even if he had to have a bottle with him to do so.

I trust him to help me get Katniss home alive, drunk or sober.


	15. Chapter 15

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

* * *

My prep team surround me, tears flooding and arms waving. "Oh, the star crossed lovers! You'll never get your happy ending!" they cry.

I'm getting used to the routine they have of prepping me to make me look good for the cameras and the people, and I barely notice the stings of gels or the nasty ripping of hair from my chest and back.

Portia shows up eventually once they've made me prim and proper, and I have no energy for this. I've been mopping up tears and snot from the prep team all morning, listening to their condolences about Katniss and I being back in.

Luckily, Portia makes light talk across the lunch we eat together, talking to me about the Games mostly and how the Capitol is. She surprises me with just how candid and open she is about how unhappy the citizens are that so many of their favourites are being back into the arena to most likely die. From what she says, Finnick Odair seems like a current fan favourite and I make a mental note to mark him as an even bigger threat.

Dessert comes out: a pot of fresh fruit and delicious melted chocolate dipping pots. I stuff my face, unable to get more of the stuff.

"So, what's happening with the opening ceremonies?" I ask, popping a beautifully ripe strawberry straight into my mouth. "More of Cinna's fire?"

"Mm, something similar," she says, a coy smile wrapping around her face.

We finish up and head down to get into the costumes that Cinna and Portia have designed and created for us. My prep team gather round me more, adding finishing touches to my hair and makeup.

When I'm finally read to be put in my outfit, Portia brings out a sleek black suit. It catches in the light, mimicking embers and ash. It covers me completely so the only skin showing is my head and my hands. I look alive, on fire, burning like coal. I never often feel strong or capable, but this suit makes me feel like I can face all the other victors and actually be a standing contestant.

And then I remember. It doesn't really matter if I'm much competition to everyone else - it's Katniss who matters. She's the one who will be winning; she's the one who will live.

"Thank you, Portia," I say. "Does... does Katniss' outfit look similiar to mine?"

"Yes, Peeta," she nods. "Cinna and I worked together. We want to make you look like a team. The rest of the Capitol sees you as these star crossed lovers... but we wanted to make it more than that. We wanted you two to be seen as a real foundation, a true pair, who understand and help each other as well as love each other."

She smiles broadly at me, but I find it hard to meet her eyes, so I instead look at myself in the mirror again. I wonder what the Capitol would think if they knew the truth, if they knew how dreadfully in love I was with her and how much she didn't love me at all.

My heart stings a little, but I push it away and decide to go down to the Remake Centre in hopes of finding Katniss. I see her straight away, the glowing ferocity of her being standing out and shining from the crowd. Normally, when she's dressed in such a beautiful garment, I'd be taken aback slightly and have to ready myself to go up to her, but I'm jarred by seeing Finnick Odair standing next to her and walk over.

"What did Finnick Odair want?" I ask

Katniss suddenly gets very close to me, her lips an inch from mine. Her eyes droop. "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," she says, her voice seductive.

I can't help but laugh at Katniss' attempt at seduction. "Ugh. Not really."

"Really," she says. "I'll tell you more when my skin stops crawling."

I take a breath, and take in all of the other tributes. They're so chatty and friendly; it's so different from last year when this room was completely quiet and still. The only talking was between other district tributes, and even that was mostly tense words unwillingly exchanged.

"Do you think we'd have ended up like this if only one us had won?" I ask. "Just another part of the freak show?"

"Sure. Especially you," Katniss says.

"Oh. And why especially me?" I say, unable to suppress a smile. I like it when Katniss is playful and funny. My heart warms, and I feel all the love I have for her overwhelm me.

"Because you have a weakness for beautiful things and I don't," she says, her voice full of superiority. "They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you'd be lost entirely."

"Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness," I point out. "Except possibly when it comes to you." I almost feel embarrassed when my notions of love slip out, but luckily the music begins to play and Katniss doesn't have time to react or respond. "Shall we?" I ask, holding out my hand to help her into the chariot.

She climbs up and pulls me with her. "Hold still," she says. She puts her hands up to my head and straightens the black crown that perches on my hair. "Have you seen your suit turned on? We're going to be fabulous again."

"Absolutely. But Portia says we're to be very above it all. No waving or anything," I tell her, even though Cinna probably already gave her the same memo. "Where are they, anyway?"

"I don't know," Katniss replies, scanning the procession. "Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on. Are we supposed to hold hands this year?"

"I guess they've left it up to us," I say.

Katniss looks straight into my eyes, and I stare back. Beneath the dramatic make-up, I see the smallest slice of anxiety sitting beneath her pearly grey eyes. Her hands finds mine, and we look straight ahead. The chariot begins to move and I adopt a stoic face; completely unrelenting, utterly unforgiving.

The crowds scream, but we don't break our facial expressions. We seem so angry, so annoyed, and I can tell it's just perfect for Katniss. Once all the chariots are parked in the City Circle, I notice that many of the tributes are staring at our burning coal ember ensemble.

President Snow gets through his monologue, and once over, everyone goes into the Training Centre. Once the doors close, Cinna and Portia come running out to see us both. Haymitch, however, is standing by the District 11 tributes, having a good old laugh. He catches our eye, nods to us, and we walk over.

I know both the tributes, Chaff and Seeder, from the meticulous amount of studying I did, but it still feels odd and jarring to meet them in the flesh. We all hug, and Chaff even kisses Katniss right on the mouth. It looks slightly sloppy, and I stifle a little laugh while Haymitch and Chaff truly bustle with laughter.

We don't have long to talk before the Capitol attendants direct us the elevators, and I get the odd feeling that they're not exactly comfortable with how everyone is acting around each other. The victors, on the other hand, couldn't care less, and take their sweet time before getting into the elevators and going back to their floors.

Katniss and I, still holding hands, head for the elevator. In the last second, a girl dressed as a tree joins us before the doors close. I immediately recognise her as Johanna Mason, the deadly axe-wielding victor from District 7.

She ruffles up her spiky hair, and pulls off her headdress of leafy branches before she begins to talk, "Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I'd gotten Cinna. You look fantastic."

Katniss looks uncomfortable. "Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet." she says, the complete and utter lie spinning off her lips awfully.

"I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back," Johanna says.

Katniss nods and looks away. Johanna begins to unzip her tree outfit and let it drop to the floor. Except from her shoes, she's completely naked.

"That's better," she says, shaking her shoulders. She starts talking to me all about my paintings and what talent I have for it, and I try to nod along as if she's not naked. I can't help but be crazily aware that this is the first time I've ever seen a woman naked, and it's hard not to look, but what I find it even harder not to look at is Katniss' reaction. She looks utterly disgusted and embarrassed all at the same time, and won't even look anywhere near Johanna's direction.

When she leaves, I burst out in laughter.

"What?" Katniss says, turning on me as we step out onto our floor.

"It's you, Katniss. Can't you see?" I say.

"What's me?"

"Why they're all acting like this. Finnick with his sugar cubes and Chaff kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down." I say. I try to make my voice go a little more serious so it doesn't seem like I'm laughing at her, but it doesn't go well. "They're all playing with you because you're so... you know."

"No, I don't know," she says.

"It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so... pure," I say.

"I am not!" she bursts out. "I've been practically ripping your clothes off every time there's been a camera for the last year!"

"Yeah, but... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure," I say. I feel a little embarrassed, almost like I've hurt her feelings. "For me, you're perfect. They're just teasing you."

"No, they're laughing at me, and so are you!" she says.

"No." I say, shaking my head, trying to suppress a tiny smile at the thought of Katniss' face as Johanna stripped down.

Katniss looks as if she's ready to throw me into the flowerbed again, just like last year, when the elevator opens again and Haymitch and Effie join us. They're both smiling about something, but their faces turn hard. I firstly think it's because Katniss looks ready to go for me, but they're looking past us and into the dining room.

"Looks like they've got you a matched set this year." she says, a faux brightness to her voice.

We both turn around and see the same redheaded Avox girl that attended to Katniss during the Games last year; but this time, there's another Avox with her, who also has red hair. That must be what Effie meant by a matched set.

The man is startling familiar. A chill runs through me as my eyes search his face, and then it dawns on me who he is.

It's the ex-Head Peacekeeper from District 12, Darius.


	16. Chapter 16

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

* * *

My eyes go straight to Katniss. There's no doubt she's had more interaction with Darius than I ever will have - in fact, I mostly stayed out of any Peacekeepers way back in District 12. I can tell from her wide-eyes and unblinking stare that she's too shocked to say anything. Instead, she prises herself out of Haymitch's grip and walks to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Darius and the Avox girl walk off, making themselves useful somewhere in the kitchen area of our floor, but the tension they brought with them doesn't dissipate when they leave. I excuse myself and go back to my room, deciding to shower. I love the Capitol showers, but no smell of rose shampoo can wash off the crawling sensation that I feel underneath my skin. I barely can imagine how Katniss feels, seeing Darius here, mutilated so that he'll never be able to speak again.

I've spent so long in the shower that my fingers turn into prunes and dinner is ready. I dress quickly and dry my hair and join everyone in the dining room. Katniss joins last, her eyes dark and sallow, her hair slightly unkempt. Not much eventful happens at dinner; conversation follows the opening ceremonies and how good the food tastes, but it's slightly mushy and feels too much in my mouth. My appetite is completely off, but I know it can't just be because of seeing Darius. I barely knew him. Sure, I'd nodded at him a few times, maybe a hello, but it was nothing compared to how Katniss surely knew him. He was always in the Hob, I knew that much, and so was she.

The only thing of note that happened over the course of dinner was Katniss knocking a bowl of peas onto the floor and attempting to clean them up. Her and Darius stooped on the floor, cleaning the mess together. Effie reprimanded her quickly, "That isn't your job, Katniss!", forcing Katniss to get up and leave Darius to clean the rest of the peas up. I try hard to catch her eye, but she avoids my gaze.

After dinner, we gather in the living room to watch the recap of the opening ceremonies on the wide-screen television. Katniss sits as far away from me as possible and despite my constant attempts to look at her or say anything, she ignores me. I wonder if I upset her by laughing at her earlier about her purity, or maybe I offended her about Darius somehow. Either way, it makes me feel rubbish and I slump into myself throughout the recap and barely pay attention.

When it finishes, Katniss goes to thank Cinna and Portia for their work and the beautiful outfits and rushes off to bed. I mumble my thanks to them as well and try to disentangle myself from a conversation with Effie about meeting in the morning to work out our training strategy. I knock a quiet knock on Katniss' bedroom door, but it goes unanswered and I don't try again. It is clear she doesn't want to talk to me, and I respect her enough to stay away and give her the space she needs. What else can I do anyway?

* * *

Breakfast is just as tasteless as dinner the previous night. Haymitch and I sit quietly, until he gets up in a fit of drunken anger and bangs on Katniss' bedroom door to get her to come for breakfast. Even with Haymitch's frantic knocking, she takes a good five minutes before coming to the table.

"You're late," Haymitch snarls at her.

"Sorry. I slept in after the mutilated-tongue nightmares kept me up half the night." she remarks, but the truth lingering in her words catch in her eyes and leaves a seal of tension and upset settle across the room.

Haymitch continues. "All right, never mind. Today, in training, you've got two jobs. One, stay in love."

"Obviously," Katniss mutters.

"And two, make some friends," Haymitch says.

"No," Katniss objects almost immediately. "I don't trust any of them, I can't stand most of them, and I'd rather just operate with just the two of us."

"That's what I said at first, but-" I begin.

"But it won't be enough," Haymitch interjects. "You're going to need more allies this time around."

"Why?" Katniss asks.

"Because you're at a distinct disadvantage. Your competitors have known each other for years. So who do you think they're going to target first?" he asks.

"Us. And nothing we're going to do is going to override any old friendship," Katniss says. "So why bother?"

"Because you can fight. You're popular with the crowd. That could still make you desirable allies. But only if you let the others know you're willing to team up with them," Haymitch explains.

"You mean you want us in the career pack this year?" Katniss asks, a snarl on her lip.

Haymitch looks to me. "That's been our strategy, hasn't it? To train like Careers? And who makes the Career pack is generally agreed upon before the Games begin. Peeta barely got in with them last year."

Katniss pauses. "So we're to try to get in with Finnick and Brutus - that's what you're saying?"

"Not necessarily. Everyone's a victor. Make your own pack if you'd rather. Choose who you like. I'd suggest Chaff and Seeder. Although Finnick's not to be ignored," Haymitch advises. "Find someone to team up with who might be some use to you. Remember, you're not in a ring full of trembling children anymore. These people are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear to be in."

I cast my eyes downward. I don't need reminding of just how tough these Games will be this year. I already go to sleep every night with my notebook in front of me, trying to think of the best ways to take down all of these victors to get Katniss home. We tell Haymitch that we'll try, but it's mostly Katniss who will be the one who will struggle to take a like to any of the victors.

Effie shows up a couple minutes early to take us down to the training centre. Last year, Katniss and I were the last two tributes to show up, so I'm guessing she wanted to make sure that didn't happen again and embarrass her. Haymitch tells her that she needn't babysit us and take us down to the gym, that we need to look independent and strong and that no one else will have their mentors with them. Effie huffs and puffs, makes a fuss of us, but agrees with Haymitch eventually and lets us go alone.

The elevator is swift and sleek. I can't help but remember last year at Katniss' amusement the way the elevator worked, making us going up and down in it several times. Now she just stands, shaking slightly. I take her hand, and she takes mine back. When we get to the gym, only the District 2 tributes are there. It's the closest I've been to them in person and it feels unreal, jarring. I've looked at endless pictures and watched endless footage of them both killing other people, but now I'm standing close to them, they're just... people. Sure, Brutus has muscles that bulge for miles and could probably throw you just as far, but my arms are quite strong too. And Enobaria's filed teeth, sharper than a bears claws, are deadly, but the gold looks dull and dark in person.

They're just people. And so are both Katniss and I. This is the first time I felt like maybe, maybe I wasn't being stupid. Maybe I really could get Katniss home.

Katniss tells me that it's probably best to split up so we can cover more stations in the gym, and I agree. I think it'd be better to look like a close team, but I also know that Katniss wouldn't want to go throw weights or practise climbing with me. Instead, I compete against Brutus and Chaff at the weight station for some time while Katniss goes to the completely empty knot-tying station where no one can bother her. So much for her trying to make allies, I think to myself.

I don't see much of her throughout the day, and she doesn't see much of me. I go to the climbing station, and the knife throwing one too. I try out my hand with some survival skills, but I don't make much progress. My favourite part of the day is where I take a little break and go to the camouflage station, even though I've learnt everything I could possibly learn there, and paint flowers up and down the arms of the pair of tributes from District 6. They don't talk much, but they seem to love what I've created on them.

When it gets to lunchtime, I catch up with Katniss when we're both getting bowls of stew onto our trays. "How's it going?" I ask.

"Good. Fine. I like the District Three victors," she says. "Wiress and Beetee."

"Really?" I ask. I look over to them, who aren't bothering with food much, and just looking at the electrics behind the lights of the food-laden carts that ring the room. "They're something of a joke to the others."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Katniss says.

"Johanna's nicknamed them Nuts and Volts," I says. "I think she's Nuts and he's Volts."

"And so I'm stupid for thinking they might be useful. Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling," she retorts.

I try to ignore the dig, but I realise that I may of come off a little rude. "Actually I think the nicknames been around for years. And I didn't mean that as an insult. I'm just sharing information," I say.

"Well, Wiress and Beetee are smart. They invent things. They could tell by sight that a force field had been put up between us and the Gamemakers. And if we have to have allies, I want them." she says, angrily tossing the ladle back into the pot of stew. It splatters on us both.

"What are you so angry about?" I ask, confused. It can't just because I mentioned what Johanna said about them both, and I explained that I didn't mean to be rude. I wipe the gravy from my shirt. "Because I teased on the elevator? I'm sorry. I thought you would just laugh about it."

"Forget it," Katniss says, shaking her head. "It's a lot of things.

I feel both slightly annoyed, but also saddened. I don't mean to make her angry. Why would I intentionally hurt her? It dawns on me that something else big happened last night...

"Darius," I say lightly.

"Darius. The Games. Haymitch making us team up with the others," she says.

"It can just be you and me, you know," I say. I'd protect her whether we were in a team of fifteen tributes or just us. I'd protect her through anything.

"I know. But maybe Haymitch is right," she says. "Don't tell him I said so, but he usually is, where the Games are concerned."

"Well, you can have final say about our allies. But right now, I'm leaning toward Chaff and Seeder," I say. They've been kind to me every time I've seen them, both today and yesterday. I even did some climb racing against Seeder.

"I'm okay with Seeder, not Chaff," Katniss explains. "Not yet, anyway."

I nod. While Chaff probably meant nothing malicious when he kissed Katniss on the mouth, and thought she'd just laugh about it, but I understand why it made Katniss feel the way she does. "Come on and eat with him. I promise, I won't let him kiss you again," I joke.

We sit at the lunch table where Chaff and Seeder are. He jokes all throughout lunch. I laughed the whole time, and even Katniss couldn't suppress a few chuckles herself.

Lunch had to come to an end, and the afternoon training started. Katniss and I split again, and I spent a little more time with Chaff and Seeder in the training areas before going to find Beetee and Wiress. I knew that if Katniss liked them, then I'd like them too, and that I ought to make some effort with them. They were odd, but in a wonderful way. Their eccentricities made me smile, and gave them both charm.

The afternoon ended with Katniss stunning everybody. She'd decided to go into the archery training area where she danced with the bow, shooting her arrows into the simulated targets. She was so fast, so swift, so delicate. Everyone watches her, a mixture of admiration and jealously flickering across their faces.

After training, we both hang out while we wait for Haymitch and Effie to show up for dinner. The moment that we are called to the table, Haymitch pounces on Katniss immediately.

"So at least half the victors have instructed their mentors to request you as an ally. I know it can't be your sunny personality." Haymitch says.

"They saw her shoot," I explain, smiling. "Actually, I saw her shoot, for real, for the first time. I'm about to put in a formal request myself."

"You're that good?" Haymitch asks, turning back to Katniss. "So good that Brutus wants you?"

Katniss shrugs. "But I don't want Brutus. I want Mags and District Three."

"Of course you do." Haymitch sighs before ordering a bottle of wine to come to the table. "I'll tell everybody you're still making up your mind."

* * *

The next two days of training go by nicely. Katniss warms up to a lot of the fellow tributes. A lot of them exchange their own knowledge in exchange for hers - Finnick offers to help her with his signature weapon, the trident, if she'll give him an hour of archery instruction. I even spent an hour on the second day painting her into a field of yellow flowers with the District 6 morphlings.

The final day of training ends with the private sessions. There's a lot kidding about it at lunch about what we all might do. Katniss isn't sure what she's going to do. She guesses she'll just shoot some arrows again. Haymitch told us to try and surprise them, but she said she was fresh out of ideas.

But I wasn't.

I was going to send them a message.

After all, I was going to die in these Games. And I wanted to be me. I needed to be me.

When it's just me and Katniss, I reach across the table we're sitting on to hold her hands. "Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?"

She shakes her head. "I can't really use them for target practise this year, with the force field up and all. Maybe make some fishhooks. What about you?"

I decide I need to lie. I don't want to upset her, or distract her, with my idea. That'd be the last thing I wanted to do. "Not a clue." I say. "I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something."

"Do some more camouflage," she suggests.

"If the morphlings have left me anything to work with," I say, half-joking. "They've been glued to that station since training started."

We sit in quiet, the same thought passing through us before Katniss blurts it out. "How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?"

"I don't know." I say. I hang my head forward, leaning on our entwined hands.

"I don't want them as allies. Why did Haymitch want us to get to know them?" she says. "It'll make it so much harder than last time. Except for Rue maybe. But I guess I never really could've killed her, anyway. She was just too much like my Prim."

My heart lurches. My idea for the private session really would upset her, I think to myself, but that's the reason I'm doing it. I look up at her. "Her death was the most despicable, wasn't it?"

"None of them were very pretty," Katniss says.

It's not long before I'm called after this. I hold my breath as I walk down to the private gym. When I get in there, I make no eye contact with any of the Gamemakers and go straight to the camouflage station. There's still plenty left, despite the morphlings using up a lot of the stuff. It's enough, anyway.

I put all the paints I need on the floor beside me and get to work. I paint, and paint and paint. They watch as I paint purple and white flowers surrounding a beautiful brown skinned little girl with her eyes closed.

Rue, dead, surrounded by flowers.

I hear a few gasps and I perfect the painting as much as I can before I'm told to leave. A couple of Avox's come in, cleaning products in hand, spilling them all over my painting before I've even gotten out the door.


	17. Chapter 17

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

* * *

I go back to the penthouse immediately and straight to my room. I know I'm going to die, I know that it doesn't really matter, not really... But I can't help but think what if? What if they take out their anger at me, onto Katniss, and hurt her somehow because of what I did? What if Katniss saw the mess, what if they couldn't clean it and she saw it and hated it and hates me?

If she hates me, I wouldn't be able to protect her. I did this because I wanted to stay true to me, I wanted to send a message, I wanted to deflect their anger onto me and not her but what if, what if I've done the opposite?

My mind spins out of control with what if's, maybes and buts. I decide to take a shower, calm myself down by smelling the artificial rose scent that they pump into the water. I sit on the cold, granite floor and let the water fall over me. I scrub at my hands, stained from the paint, but the colour barely fades away at all. I don't know how long I sit there for, but by the time I leave, my fingers are pruned and water is dripping from my hair.

At some point in my anxious haze, we all gather around in the dining room for dinner. We eat some kind of soup, but it tastes odd in my mouth and all I can focus on is the stale silence around us. It hits me that I have been so caught up in myself that I haven't even considered what Katniss' private session might have gone like.

Haymitch breaks the silence once we've all eaten the soup up. "All right, so how did your private sessions go?"

Katniss' eyes find mine across the table. It's the first time we've actually looked at each other. "You first," she says to me. "It mus have been really special. I had to wait for forty minutes to go in."

I didn't know how to make my words leave my mouth. "Well, I - I did the camouflage thing, like you suggested, Katniss." I say, hesitating. "Not exactly camouflage. I mean, I used the dyes."

"To do what?" Portia, my stylist, asks.

I felt myself go hot. I could feel all the eyes on the table looking at me.

Katniss starts. "You painted something, didn't you? A picture."

"Did you see it?" I ask, my breath stuck in my chest. Surely she'd have said something by now if she'd seen what I painted...

"No. But they'd made a real point of covering it up," she tells me.

"Well, that would be standard. They can't let one tribute know what another did," says Effie, completely unconcerned. I wonder what it's like in her blissful little head. "What did you paint, Peeta? Was it a picture of Katniss?"

Katniss furrowed her brows. "Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?"

"To show he's going to do everything he can to defend you. That's what everyone in the Capitol's expecting, anyway. Didn't he volunteer to go in with you?" Effie says.

Each word that comes out of her mouth annoys Katniss a little bit more, and everyone eyes are still questioning me, so I decide that I need to just say it. I need to just tell everyone what I painted - to diffuse the tension, and to stop everyone staring at me.

"Actually, I painted a picture of Rue," I admit. "How she looked after Katniss had covered her in flowers."

A long pause ensues before Haymitch talks. "And what exactly were you trying to accomplish?" he asks.

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment," I say. "For killing that little girl."

"This is dreadful." Effie says. Her voice sounds fragile, as if she's about to cry. "That sort of thinking... it's forbidden, Peeta. Absolutely. You'll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss."

"I have to agree with Effie on this one," Haymitch says. Portia and Cinna both look just as serious and as upset as Effie.

It hurts. I thought that maybe being a ballsy like Katniss last year would impress at least Haymitch, but apparently not. Now they're all just disappointed in me, and it kinda sucks. I daren't even look at Katniss.

Katniss clears her throat. "I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it," she says.

My eyes snap to her. Is she _serious_?

The air in the room is heavy.

"You... hung... Seneca Crane?" Cinna asks, his voice empty.

"Yes. I was showing off my new knot-tying skills, and he somehow ended up at the end of the noose," she says. She sounds so unabashed, uncaring. I look at her, and her eyes welcome me, trying to tell me that it's okay. We have each other, even if everyone else and the Gamemakers hate us.

Effie doesn't bother to suppress her upset. "Oh Katniss," she says. "How do you even know about that?"

"Is it a secret? President Snow didn't act like it was. In fact, he seemed eager for me to know," Katniss explains. Effie begins to cry, holding the napkin to her face as she leaves the table. "Now I've upset Effie. I should have lied and said I shot some arrows."

I try to give her a hint of a smile, as welcoming and loving as the look in her eyes to me just a few moments ago. "You'd have thought we planned it," I say.

"Didn't you?" asks Portia. She holds her fingers to her head, pinching the skin, warding off a headache.

"No," Katniss says, defending us both. Her eyes lock onto me. I've never felt so secure with her, but I do now. "Neither of us even knew what we were going to do before we went in."

"And, Haymitch?" I start. We may as well disappoint him all in one go, right? "We've decided we don't want any other allies in the arena."

"Good. Then I won't be responsible for you killing off any of my friends with your stupidity," he snaps.

"That's just what we were thinking," Katniss tells him.

We finish the meal in silence. All I really want is to take Katniss' hand and leave the dining room, get away from everyone, but the scores come out on the television as soon as we've finished eating. Everyone gathers round the television set, and even Effie comes back to join us, sniffling and red-eyed from crying.

It's all incredibly predictable. There's high scores for the first four districts, except for Mags, and then low to medium scores for the rest.

"Have they ever given a zero?" Katniss asks.

"No, but there's a first time for everything," Cinna answers.

And it is a first time, for sure. But not with a zero. It's with a twelve. No one in the history of the Hunger Games has ever gotten a twelve. No one celebrates, though.

"Why did they do that?" Katniss asks.

"So that the others will have no choice but to target you," Haymitch says, his voice flat. "Go to bed. I can't stand to look at either one of you."

We leave without objection. It's what I wanted, anyway. We walk down the corridor back to our rooms in silence, stopping outside of Katniss' door. I go to say goodnight, but before the words can leave my mouth, her arms are wrapping around me and her head is resting on my chest. I don't spare a second before wrapping my arms back around hers. I lean on her head, smelling the sweet scent of her lavender shampoo. My heart warms, full of love.

"I'm sorry if I made things worse," she says.

"No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?" I ask.

"I don't know. To show them that I'm more than just a piece in their Games?" she says.

I laugh, remembering the night before the Games last year when I said those exact same words to her. "Me, too," I tell her. "And I'm not saying I'm not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I'm perfectly honest about it..."

Katniss cuts me off. "If you're perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway."

"It's crossed my mind," I admit. It's more than crossed my mind really, but I didn't want to picture a world where I couldn't get Katniss home, alive, and back with her family. I know I won't leave that arena alive, but I need Katniss to. I just need her to. "But even if that happens, everyone will know we've gone out fighting right?"

"Everyone will," Katniss replies. We stay as we are for a few moments, holding each other, before Katniss talks again. "So what should we do with our last few days?"

I decide to be honest. In her arms, now, holding her, I can't not be honest, anyway. "I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you," I say, my heart swelling, tightening my grip on her.

"Come on, then," she says. She disentangles herself from me, and pulls me into her room. We climb into the bed together, holding each other. I stroke her hair, and she closes her eyes. We fall asleep like this, together, and I love her. I love her.

* * *

Daylight streams through the windows. I watch her wake up, sleep in her eyes, warm.

When she wakes, I say "No nightmares."

"No nightmares," she confirms. "You?"

"None. I'd forgotten what a real night's sleep feels like," I tell her.

We lie there, holding each other, and I fall into sleep for a few minutes here and there. Everything feels calm and stable and beautiful. While we are here, I can pretend for a moment that everything is okay.

Today we train for the televised interview, but then a redheaded Avox girl comes in handing us a note from Effie and Haymitch saying that they think we can handle ourselves adequately in public, and that the coaching sessions have been cancelled. It makes sense. They're both clearly still mad with us both.

"Really?" I say. "Do you know what this means? We'll have the whole day to ourselves."

"It's too bad we can't go somewhere," Katniss says wistfully.

"Who says we can't?" I say, raising my eyebrow.

I take her up to the roof of the centre. We order a whole bunch of food, grab a ton of blankets and head up there. We sit in the flower garden, munching our little picnic on a pile of blankets. Wind chimes play their melodies between our words. Katniss snaps off vines from trees and ties knots in them, and I sketch her. We even play a game with the force field that surrounds the roof where one of us will throw an apple into it and the other will have to catch it.

Nobody bothers us, not one person, all day long. By late afternoon, the sun begins to set in the sky. Katniss lies with her head in my lap and I tie small daisies into her brown locks. All I can think about is how much I love her. How I wish this was my life, my everyday, my everything.

Katniss senses something's on my mind and asks me, "What?"

"I wish I could freeze this moment," I say. "Right here, right now, and live in it forever."

"Okay." Katniss says.

I can't help but feel a little shocked, as normally she despises me saying anything that's slightly loving or sickly sweet. I can't help but smile. "Then you'll allow it?" I ask.

"I'll allow it," she says.

I go back to daisy-chaining her hair, making her look even more beautiful than she is, and everything is so warm and beautiful. She falls asleep for a few moments, but I decide to wake her up to see the sunset. "I didn't think you'd want to miss it," I say.

"Thanks."

We move to the edge of the building, dangle our legs off it, and wrap a blanket around us both. We watch as the sky bursts into candied pinks and sherbet oranges, the sweet yellow sun dipping behind clouds. We don't bother going to join anyone for dinner. We don't really think anyone wants us there, anyway.

"I'm glad. I'm tired of making everyone around me so miserable," I say. "Everybody crying. Or Haymitch..."

But I don't need to go on, Katniss knows what I mean, and I don't want to go on. I want to stay in this moment, not caring about anybody else, for as long as possible.

We stay on the roof together until it's bedtime, and then we quietly slip back down to Katniss' bedroom. We don't encounter anyone on the way there.

We fall asleep in the same way we did last night, huddled together, warm and safe.

* * *

In the morning, we wake with Katniss' prep team hovering over us, surrounding the bed. One of them, Octavia I think, begins to cry straight away.

"You remember what Cinna told us," another one scolds her. Octavia nods and leaves the room, clearly sobbing.

I have to go back to my own room to be prepped and I reluctantly leave, hugging Katniss before I go. The whole day is spent in prep, beautifying me - making my skin glow and my hair smell like fruits. There's little talk with my prep team, but it almost feels like Portia might have forgiven me for what I did in the private training scoring. I try to mention it, tell her that I'm sorry, but she tells me she doesn't even want to talk about it anymore so I decide to stick to lighter subjects, like the outfit she's made me. It's white and slick, clinging to my muscles and showing them off, and has a black and gold flecked handkerchief in the chest pocket. She's also given me silk white gloves to wear. It's nice.

When I'm dressed and read, Portia lets me go meet up with Effie, Haymitch and Katniss at the elevator. I'm not even remotely shocked to see she's wearing a wedding dress. It's exactly the sort of thing President Snow would do. She looks beautiful, as always, but it's... not her. It's the Capitol. If it was truly her wedding, I know that Katniss would rather something simple and elegant, something that was much more... her. And that would be truly beautiful.

The first interview starts a couple minutes after Effie and Haymitch leave us both, and nerves twist in my stomach. I realise that I have nothing to say. I have no angle. I watch the other tributes on the screen in the lobby, and it's clear as daylight what their angles are.

Cashmere is the first to go, and she spends her whole three minutes crying and telling the Capitol that they must be suffering so much at the thought of losing us all. Beetee questions the legality of the Quell. Finnick recites a poem that he's written for one of his lovers in the audience, telling them that they're his one true love, and hundreds fawn. Johanna Mason asks if something can be done about the whole thing, as how will the Capitol ever cope losing the victors that they love so much?

Once Chaff has been up, telling the audience that President Snow is powerful enough to stop these Games, it's time for Katniss to go. Caeser starts off with a lull, his night having been full of tough interviewees. "So, Katniss, obviously this is a very emotional night for eveyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Her voice trembles as she speaks, her hands shaking. "Only that I'm so sorry you won't get to be at my wedding... but I'm glad you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just... the most beautiful thing?"

And then she begins to spin, twirling in circles.

And then she's engulfed in smoke, ash and char.

And then she's made of feathers, pearls clattering onto the stage. She lifts her arms out, out, out and she has wings that stretch far and are the colour of coal.

She's a mockingjay.

Cinna has turned her into a mockingjay.


	18. Chapter 18

**PART TWO | THE QUELL**

 **CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

* * *

"Feathers," says Caeser. "You're like a bird."

"A mockingjay, I think," Katniss says, giving her wings a small flap. "It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token."

The recognition hits Caeser, and it's obvious he knows it's not just a token. That it symbolises so much more than just a bird. That while everyone in this arena, all the of the Capitol citizens, will think it's just a flashy costume, but the Districts... it's something completely different.

"Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!" Caeser gestures for Cinna to do so, which he does. It's small and gracious, and suddenly I realise the position he's put himself in. That President Snow won't let him get away with this. I fear for Katniss. She can't lose more people. She just can't, but she will. She'll lose him and there's nothing either of us can do about it.

The audience breaks into a wild applause, screaming and shouting for Katniss and falling in love with her even more. The buzzer sounds, signalling the end of her interview. She walks off stage and I pass her as I go on stage, but I daren't seek her eye - every single other tribute has done what they can to stop these Games, and I will be no different... An idea is rooting itself in my head, and all I have to do is steer the conversation carefully.

But I'm not sure what Katniss will make of this idea. Maybe she'll hate me, but I hope she knows what I'll be doing this for. Who I'll be doing it for.

I sit down and Caeser almost looks glad to see me. We have an easy back and forth. I'm an easy interviewee. Compared to anyone tonight, I'm an easy interviewee, but I guess he doesn't know what he's in for right now.

"So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you've been through, you found out about the Quell?" asks Caeser.

"I was in shock. I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next..." I trail off.

"You realised there was never going to be a wedding?"

I pause, trying to decide how to play this into my hands. I look out to the audience, their faces wistful, watching mine back, before gazing down at the floor and then back to Caeser. "Caeser," I begin. "Do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?"

There's a small, questioning laugh from the audience. "I feel quite certain of it," Caeser says.

"We're already married," I say quietly. Gasps ricochet around the crowd.

"But... how can that be?" Caeser asks.

"Oh, its not an offical marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like for other districts. But there's this thing we do," I say, and begin to describe the toasting where a newlywed couple make a fire together and eat a piece of toasted bread together. It's a common thing back home, and everyone does it. It's kind of like you're not really married until you complete the toasting.

"Were your families there?" asks Caeser.

"No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss' mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn't be a toasting. And neither of us wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it," I say. "And to use, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us."

"So this was before the Quell?"

"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew," I say. I start to fake getting upset, making my voice thick with emotion and my lip wobble as if I'm about to cry. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, then out of nowhere... I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?"

Everything I seem to be saying is working, and even Caeser seems to be getting emotional as he puts an arm around my shoulders. "You couldn't, Peeta. As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."

An applause ensues, but I stop them. "I'm not glad," I say. "I wish we had waited until this whole thing was done officially."

Caeser is taken aback. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caeser," I say, my voice bitter as I get ready to drop my next line, "if it weren't for the baby."

The audience explodes. Everyone begins to scream, accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying everywhere. They shriek and scream and call for help. Katniss' face and reaction has been projected behind me, filling up the entire screen. She looks shocked, confused, but not angry. She tries to control her emotions and stay as plain faced as she can, while I try to make myself look both sad and angry at the same time.

Caeser struggles to rein the crowd in, even when the buzzer sounds, so I leave the stage, uttering goodbye and sit next to Katniss. We don't talk - we wouldn't even be able to hear each other through the screaming, but we hold each others hands. Katniss begins to rise, standing. I stand up with her, our hands still intertwined.

And then it happens. Up and down the rows of seats, all the other victors begin to join hands. All twenty four of stand, holding each other up, in an unbroken line. We are the first public show of unity across the twelve districts.

The lights go dark, plunging us into darkness. But it's too late, because everyone has seen us already, standing tall and standing together.

Everything descends into chaos. I keep firm grip of Katniss' hand as I try to guide us into light and back to our penthouse. I guide us both into an elevator where Finnick and Johanna try to join us, but a Peacekeepers block them from getting to us.

We shoot up in the elevator alone, and as soon as we're out of it, I grip her shoulders tightly. "There isn't much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologise for?" I ask, desperately looking into her eyes. I don't want to go into that arena tomorrow thinking she's mad at me.

"Nothing," she says.

I want to ask more, but there isn't time. Haymitch is the first to appear through the elevator returns to our floor. "It's madness out there." he says. "Everyone's been sent home and they've cancelled the recap of the interviews on the television."

Both Katniss and I hurry to the windows. The streets look like there is some sort of rebellion taking place. "What are they saying?" I ask. "Are they asking the president to stop the Games?"

"I don't think they know themselves what to ask. The whole situation is unprecedented. Even the idea of opposing the Capitol's agenda is a source of confusion for the people here," Haymitch says. "But there's no way Snow would cancel the Games. You know that, right?"

I swallow hard. I didn't want to know that, but I guess I did. Somewhere inside me, I did know that.

"The others went home?" Katniss asks.

"They were ordered to. I don't know how much luck they're having getting through the mob," Haymitch replies.

"Then we'll never see Effie again," I say. It hits me hard. I never got to patch things up to her, say I was sorry. "You'll give her our thanks."

"More than that. Really make it special. It's Effie, after all," Katniss adds. "Tell her how appreciative we are and how she was the best escort ever and tell her... tell her we send our love."

For a while, we're all just silent, watching the commotion below us. We delay the inevitable, until Haymitch makes us all face it. "I guess this is where we say our goodbyes as well."

"Any last words of advice?" I ask.

Haymitch guffaws. "Stay alive." We all embrace, quick and short, it's all that we can stand. "Go to bed. You need your rest."

"You take care, Haymitch," I say. This is all I say, despite the hundreds of words sitting on my tongue, stuck in my throat.

We cross the room, but when we reach the doorway, Haymitch's voice stops us. "Katniss, when you're in the arena," he begins, but pauses, as if he can't say his words either.

"What?" Katniss asks, almost defensively.

"You just remember who the enemy is," he tells her. "That's all. Now go on. Get out of here."

We walk down the hallway. I say that I'm going to stop in my room to shower, but Katniss won't let me out of her sight. She's convinced that if we leave each other then the doors will lock and she'll have to be without me. She refuses to let go of my hand, and I have to shower in her room. I don't mind it at all.

Sleep is broken, disrupted and restless. We hold each other throughout the night, our consciousness split between the awake and the asleep. When the dawn arrives, I have to go. I hate leaving her. I hate knowing that when I see her again, it'll be in the arena. Cinna and Portia arrive to separate us both.

I kiss her lightly. She lets me. I savour the moments I can spend pressing my lips against hers, wondering if this is the last kiss I'll ever have from her. "See you soon," I say.

"See you soon," she affirms.

Portia and I leave. She dresses me in the Launch Room, helping into a fitted blue jumpsuit. It's thin and feels nothing like any material I know. "What do you think of this?" I ask her.

"It's... odd. It's not very protective at all. The arena may not be so much of a dangerous environment, maybe," Portia says. "Maybe sun. Water. It's hard to tell with the Gamemakers. They like to throw even us off."

I smile at her, trying my best not to let the anxiety inside me eat me up into nothingness. It's no time at all before I'm made to go into the confining clear tube that sends me up into the arena. I hug Portia goodbye before getting into it.

The glass sends me up and then I'm in the arena. It's too bright to see anything at first, so I let my eyes adjust before trying to look around me. All I can see is water, water everywhere, and then the cornucopia on a little island.

This is it. This is the 75th Hunger Games.


	19. Chapter 19

**PART THREE | THE ENEMY**

 **CHAPTER NINETEEN**

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!"

Claudius Templesmith's voice booms around the arena, reverberating and hitting me into reality. I have sixty seconds. Sixty seconds before the gong sounds and I have to move.

I can't think of anything but Katniss. Where is she? Where is she? I take in my surroundings: the blue water, the pink sky, the burning hot sun beating down on my skin. The cornucopia is sitting on an island a couple of yards away from the pedestals that we stand on. There are thin strips of land leading to the island, but it doesn't seem easy to walk on. It seems like I'm going to have to swim.

But swim where? Katniss isn't anywhere in sight. Is she looking for me, too? Is she behind the cornucopia? We didn't plan what to do in this... I don't know whether to wait here, or try to get to her, or get to the cornucopia... I don't know.

The gong goes off, vibrating my bones. I stand on my pedestal, unsure on what the hell I'm going to do. I don't know how long I'm standing here, watching the commotion happen before me. I can't see Katniss anywhere, but I see the Career tributes rushing around. Then, an arrow flies. It's obvious who it belongs to. She's nearby.

I spot her not long after that. She's standing with Finnick. Has she... allied with him? When did she decide this? I watch them, still stranded on my pedestal, before Finnick dives into the water and Katniss guards herself and us.

Finnick swims up to me in no time, swift as anything. "Come on, then," he says to me.

"What?"

"We're allies," he says, as if that explains things.

"Who decided that?" I ask.

He flashes his wrist at me and the gold from a fire-patterned bangle flashes at me. It's the same one that I saw on Haymitch's wrist a couple times. There's no way Haymitch would've given it to Finnick without trusting him in some way. But we both made it clear we didn't want allies... but Katniss seems to have accepted this already, maybe Haymitch talked to her...

I didn't really have any time to fight more within myself, so I dipped myself into the water and let Finnick tow me back, one arm across my chest while the other flew us through the water. When we reach the sand, I'm close to Katniss again and it makes me feel so much safer already. She hauls me up onto the dry land.

"Hello, again," I say. I pop a small kiss onto her mouth. Kisses in the arena don't feel real - they feel almost as if they're all staged. It sucks, really, but it's important we keep up the premise that we're in love and married and stuff. "We've got allies." I continued.

"Yes. Just as Haymitch intended," she answered.

"Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?" I ask.

"Only Mags, I think," Katniss nods toward the older woman who is making her way slowly toward us.

"Well, I can't leave Mags behind," says Finnick. "She's only of the few people who actually likes me."

"I've got no problem with Mags," Katniss says. "Especially now that I see the arena. Her fishhooks are probably our best chance of getting a meal."

"Katniss wanted her on the first day," I tell Finnick.

"Katniss has remarkably good judgement," Finnick says before reaching over to help scoop Mags out of the water and with all of us. It's undeniable to see that he loves her completely. "Look, she's right. Someone figured it out."

Finnick is pointing to Beetee, who is flailing around in the waves but somehow managing to keep his head above the water.

"What?" Katniss asks, perplexed.

"The belts. They're flotation devices," Finnick explains. "I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they'll keep you from drowning."

A moment passes, and Katniss suggests to move on from the area we are. She hands me a bow and sheath of arrows, despite me being absolutely rubbish with them. She gives me a knife, too, which I'm more grateful for. Finnick hauls Mags over his shoulder and carries her as we all run away from the Cornucopia.

Where the sands ends, there's a warm, thick jungle. It rises sharply, uphill. I've never seen trees like it - it's only because of picture books I had as a child that I even know what they're called. The earth beneath our feet feels nothing like mud; it feels more like sponge, I almost bounce with each and every footstep. The air is thick and humid, and it's hard to breathe.

I take the lead, cutting through dense patches of the jungle vegetation with my knife to make a clear pathway for us to walk. At some point, Katniss decides to scale a tree to get an overhead view of everything that surrounds us in the arena. She stays up there for a good few minutes.

"Is she okay up there?" Finnick asks, staring up into the foliage.

I shrug in response, not sure what to say, but I'm lucky that I don't have to come up with some sort of answer as Katniss climbs down from the tree soon after.

"What's going on down there, Katniss? Have they all joined hands? Taken a vow of nonviolence? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol?" Finnick asks, trident in hand.

"No," Katniss says shortly.

"No," he repeats. "Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance. Except maybe Peeta."

I watch as Katniss and Finnick sate each other down. I try not to take offence to what seems like a bit of a dig. It's not really a bad thing that I'm a victor by default, but in some weird way, it kinda sucks that I'm not taken seriously, I'm not a 'real' victor because of it.

After a while, I get annoyed by their staring contest. The tension in the air is thicker than the heat. I step between them both, feeling as though either one of them is going to attack the other in a minute. So much for allies.

"So how many are dead?" I ask.

Katniss glares at me, probably wishing I was dead at that moment. "Hard to say," she says. "At least six, I think. And they're still fighting."

"Let's keep moving. We need water," I say, feeling my parched throat scratch at me every time I speak.

"Better find some soon," Finnick says. "We need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight."

We walk for what feels like another mile, all of us getting annoyed and worried at the lack of signs of water. It almost looks like we're reaching the crest of a hill when Katniss pauses to say, "Maybe we'll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something."

I walk a little further to the edge, Finnick behind me and Katniss closely following, to double check over the crest. But then I hit a wall. Electricity shoots through every one of my muscles and I'm flying backwards, back into the jungle and it's black, everything is black and I'm gone.

I'm gone.


	20. Chapter 20

**PART THREE | THE ENEMY**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY**

* * *

A cough splutters from my lips, filtered and barely there until it's hacking, coughing up death.

"Peeta?" a voice says, softly, right above me. I feel my hair being brushed away from my forehead, a pair of fingers pressing against my neck to find my pulse. I know the touch well enough to know that it's Katniss. Everything is hazy, covered by a fuzz, but Katniss' touch seems to make the fog clouds that want to linger inside my head dissipate until I'm almost fully back, here.

I've passed out before, but coming back into consciousness has never felt so weird and wrong, so difficult. "Careful," I say, my voice weak. "There's a force field up there." My eyes flutter open for a second, meeting Katniss' grey. She laughs gently, but tears are streaming down her face and carving through the dirt that was on her cheeks just before. "Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Centre roof. I'm all right, though. Just a little shaken."

"You were dead! Your heart stopped!" Katniss burst out before clapping her hand over her mouth. She makes a small choking sound, the kind she makes when she starts to cry.

My heart reaches out to her. I died for a second, a minute even - no wonder unconsciousness was so difficult to stir myself from. I push away the thought that I was almost dead, knowing I'd have to die in this arena anyway at some point, and focus on Katniss. I've never seen her look so upset before, so clearly broken in my death. "Well, it seems it be working now," I reassure her. "It's all right, Katniss. Katniss?"

She keeps crying, sobbing openly, and my heart is working overtime thanks to my worry about her and my previous encounter death.

"It's OK. It's just her hormones," Finnick says. I must look slightly dazed, because he adds, "From the baby."

"No. It's not-" Katniss starts, but gets cut off again by the sound of her own sobbing. Katniss stares at Finnick and he stares back while she cries. He looks almost quizzically at her, working something out. He glances between both Katniss and I.

"How are you?" he asks me. "Do you think you can move on?"

"No, he has to rest," Katniss protests. Her nose is running like crazy, so Mags rips off some moss from a tree limp that she uses to mop herself up. She blows her nose loudly. All of a sudden, she reaches out to my chest, grabbing the gold hanging chain. My token. The token I was hoping she wouldn't notice until I needed to show it to her, to remind her of why she needed to win these Games and live. "Is this your token?" she asks.

"Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match," I say.

Katniss smiles, but it feels odd. Wrong. Not a real smile. "No, of course I don't mind." she says, but I worry anyway.

"So you want to make camp here, then?" Finnick asks.

"I don't think that's an option," I say. "Staying here. With no water. No protection. I feel all right, really. If we could just go slowly."

Finnick helps me to my feet. "Slowly would be better than not at all." he says.

Katniss checks over her weapons, as if reminding Finnick that she does indeed have weapons she isn't afraid to use. I understand it - why she feels on edge around them. With where we are, with what's happening... she didn't even want allies. This isn't what we wanted or planned, but it's what we have. Whatever makes her feel more comfortable, I'm fine with.

"I'll take the lead," she announces to the group.

I start to object, worried for her safety, but Finnick cuts me off. "No, let her do it." he says, frowning at Katniss. "You knew that force field was there, didn't you? Right at the last second? You started to give a warning. How did you know?"

Katniss hesitates, not wanting to trust Finnick. The air has such a palpable tension that it sets me on edge; an edge I don't know how I'll ever get off from.

"I don't know. It's almost as if I could hear it. Listen." she explains.

I strain my hearing, but nothing apart from wind and the distant sea around the cornucopia smashing against rocks reaches my ears. "I don't hear anything," I say.

"Yes," Katniss insists. "It's like when the fence around District Twelve is on, only much, much quieter." We all listen again, not a sound between us all, but nothing. "There! Can't you hear it? It's coming from right where Peeta got shocked."

"I don't hear it, either," Finnick says. "But if you do, by all means, take the lead."

"That's weird," Katniss says. She turns her head, testing each ear. "I can only hear it out of my left ear."

It hits me, "The one the doctors reconstructed?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says, shrugging. "Maybe they did a better job then they thought. You know, sometimes I do hear funny things on that side. Things you wouldn't ordinarily think have a sound. Like insect wings. Or snow hitting on the ground."

Something feels off about it, too forced of an explanation, too perfect, but I decide that Katniss knows best and there's real point to push her to tell me the truth. After all, did it really matter? As long as she could somehow tell the force field was there, and was safe, it was okay.

"You," Mags says to Katniss. She nudges her forward so that Katniss takes the lead. Mags walks with a branch fashioned into some sort of cane, and Finnick gives me one too to help walking. We go slowly, and I'm grateful, because truly all I really want is to lie down. Dying really takes it out of you.

At some point during our walk, Mags starts to eat some sort of funny berries that she seems to enjoy very much. "Mags!" Katniss cried at her. "Spit that out. It could be poisonous." But all Mags does is exaggeratedly lick her lips and keep eating the small berries.

"I guess we'll find out," Finnick says with a small laugh.

I can't help but wonder about Finnick and Mags. Surely he knows she can't survive this. She must know that, too. She volunteered for some other girl, a younger girl. The amount of courage and selflessness it takes to do that... I admire her. This batty old woman, with so much love and vigour despite her ailments, has so much bravery within her heart. I understand fully why Finnick takes care of her so much.

We walk for a long while, and even though it's slow, I can't help but feel sheer exhaustion spread throughout my muscles. I almost die of relief when Katniss says, "Let's take a break, I need to get another look from above."

I lean against a tree, relaxing my body, and watch as Katniss climbs nimbly up a tree. In her absence, and in not moving, I truly begin to feel the weight of my body and how tired I've become. Sweat drenches my wet suit, and I'm desperate for water. And sleep.

When Katniss slumps back down a few minutes later, she tells us what she saw. "The force field has us trapped in a circle. A dome, really. I don't know how high it goes. There's the Cornucopia, the sea, and then the jungle all around. Very exact. Very symmetrical. And not very large."

"Did you see any water?" Finnick asks.

"Only the salt water where we started the Games," Katniss says. My hope deflates a little.

"There must be some other source," I say, frowning. "Or we'll all be dead in a matter of days."

"Well, the foliage is thick. Maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere," Katniss says, but the doubt lined in her voice is thick. "At any rate, there's no point trying to find out what's over the edge of this hill, because the answer is nothing."

"There must be drinkable water between the force field and the wheel," I insist. She may be doubtful, but there is no way they'd just not give us water. It would make for an incredibly boring Games - we'd all just die within a matter of days, and the Capitol wouldn't like that. There's no fun in that.

Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing, and that means we have to find the water. That means we have to head back down from this hill. The idea of more walking makes me want to curl up, but I push myself to think of cool, refreshing water and I start to move again.

We go down the slop a few hundred metres and continue to circle, seeing if there is water at this level. Katniss stays in the lead despite the fact that we are well out of the force fields way now. The sun beats down on our backs, draining us of more energy and precious water stored inside our bodies. We keep going, but it doesn't take long for both Mags and I to become too exhausted and dehydrated to keep going at this rate.

Finnick choose a campsite, using the force field ten or so meters behind us to our advantage, saying we could use it as a weapon against enemies. We start to make a makeshift place to spend the night. Finnick and Mags weave long grass together, making some sort mats, and I collect bunches of the berries that Mags was eating earlier. They didn't seem to have an ill effect, so Katniss agrees we could eat them. I fry them against the force field and collect them in leafs for us all to eat.

Fidgety and hot, Katniss stands above us all. She can't seem to settle. It doesn't take long for her to snap. "Finnick, why don't you stand guard and I'll hunt around some more for water," I say. I don't want her to go on her own - neither do Finnick or Mags, really - but the threat of dehydration is looming over us, especially within this thick, raw heat. "Don't worry, I won't go far," she promises me.

"I'll go too," I offer, even though I wouldn't know how to keep walking as much as she wants to.

"No, I'm going to do some hunting if I can," she tells me. "I wont be long."

I keep up with my berries, finding some nuts too that I peel the shells off. Mags eats a few with delight. She makes me smile. We all stay quiet, busy and distracted, trying not to let out dry throats play on our minds.

When Katniss gets back, she doesn't have any water with her, just a skinned rodent. We all still look at her with hope in our eyes, though, despite the glaring fact that she didn't find anything. "No. No water. It's out there, though. He knew where it was," she says, holding up the rat. "He'd been drinking recently when I shot him out of a tree, but I couldn't find his source. I swear, I covered every centimetre of ground in a thirty metre radius."

"Can we eat him?" I ask, motioning to the rodent.

"I don't know for sure. But his meat doesn't look that different from a squirrels. He ought to be cooked..." she hesitates, trying to think a way to start a fire or some way to cook him - but I have a better idea.

I take a cube of the rodents meat and skewer it on a stick before letting it fall into the force field. It sizzles, sharply, and then the stick flies back to us. Sure, it's blackened on the outside, but the meat is well cooked on the inside. Everyone gives me a small clap, but not much of one. We have to remember where we are.

The sun sets and we all graze on the small portions of nuts and meat as we watch the sky go from its bright blue hue to one of a rosy nature. It's not a bad meal, but all I truly want is something to wash it down with. Finnick asks endless questions about the rodent, but Katniss' answers are uninteresting and nothing special, giving us no indication of where he may have been drinking. Eventually, the pale white moon rises into the darkening sky, and I slip my hand into Katniss'. She lets me.

Everything is interrupted when the Capitol seal flies into the sky, the anthem playing loudly around us, and the faces of the dead begin to show. I don't know many of them, except Haymitch's friend, Seeder. I wonder if he hurts. I hope with a vengeance that he isn't falling off the wagon, drinking himself into oblivion. His friend died, but Katniss might too if he doesn't just keep it together for a little while. Just a little while.

No one speaks after the faces disappear from the sky. We all just sit, motionless and empty. I'm not sure how long we're sitting when a parachute falls from the sky, silver and bright. It falls down into the foliage, and none of us move to reach for it.

"Whose is it, do you think?" Katniss says.

"No telling," Finnick replies. "Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?"

Normally, I'd give that a small laugh, but my tongue feels so dry that I'm almost sure it'd just come out as a cough. I reach up and untie the cord, flattening out the circle of silk. On the parachute sits a small metal object. Katniss' face twists into recognition. "What is it?" she asks. I'm not sure who she is asking - maybe herself, but no one actually knows. We pass it around, hand to hand, taking turns examining the object. It's a hollow tube, tapered slightly at one end. A small lip curves downward on the other end.

I blow on one end, seeing if it makes a sound. It doesn't. Finnick puts a finger into it, wondering if it's some sort of weapon. But it isn't.

Katniss turns to Mags. "Can you fish with it, Mags?" she asks. But the old woman shakes her head and grunts. Katniss rolls the thing back and forth on her palm, a coin tossing over in her mind, whurring and working. After a few minutes, she jams the metal rod into the dirt out of anger. "I give up. Maybe if we hook up with Beetee or Wiress, they can figure it out."

She stretches out, pressing herself into one of the grass mats that Finnick and Mags made. I rub a spot on her shoulders, trying to relax her a little. She feels tense underneath my fingers at first before letting herself go for a small bit.

I'm not sure how long we all stay like this. I feel myself sliding off into sleep, the heaviness of the day ending, when Katniss bolts upright and my hand falls right off her. "A spile!" she excalims.

"What?" Finnick asks.

Wrestling the metal rod from the ground, Katniss brushes it clean and cups her hands around it. "It's a spile. Sort of like a tap. You put it in a tree and sap comes out. Well, the right sort of treee."

"Sap?" Finnick asks.

"To make syrup," I say. My dad would get syrup from trees, to lace within some of our breads and cakes, but I never knew how. "But there must be something else inside these trees."

Hope rises anew within all of us. Water. The one thing we so desperately needed, the one thing worth spending sponsor money on right now. _Water_!

We all rise to our feet, the thirst driving us. Finnick goes to jam the spile straight into the tree but Katniss stops him. "Wait. You might damage it. We need to drill a hole first." she says.

Mags offers her awl, the only thing that any of us can think to use to make a hole, and I drive it into the bark and bury the spike in. Finnick and I take turns of opening up the hole with the awl and knives until it's big enough to hold the spile. When it's ready, Katniss edges it into the tree carefully. We stand back, waiting, silence rippling between us. At first, nothing happens, then a drop of water rolls off the lip of the spile and into Mag's palm. She licks it off and holds her hands out for more.

We wiggle and adjust the spile until a steady and thin stream begins to pour out. We take turns holding our mouths underneath it, wetting out mouths and tongues and bodies. Water has never tasted so good. We fill one of Mags grass weaved baskets, passing it around to take deep gulps and luxuriously washing our faces clean. I feel a smile on my face.

Without the weight of dehydration on us, we're all aware of just how exhausted we are and decided to make preparations for the night. Finnick takes first watch, and Katniss lays beside me. I let sleep grab me and take me straight away.

* * *

Then, Katniss is screaming.

In the depths of my sleep, I can hear her, shouting, making us wake. Wake. Wake up!


	21. Chapter 21

**PART THREE | THE ENEMY**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

* * *

"Run! Run!"

Katniss voice is strained. She's in pain. The weight of sleep sits on me, but the sound of her voice so sharp brings me back to the jungle. I'm still feeling the after effects of dying earlier on today, and the exhaustion is unreal. I feel slow trying to pull myself up from the ground.

"What is it? What is it?" Finnick asks, his voice bewildered.

"Some kind of dog. Poisonous gas. Hurry, Peeta!" Katniss urges.

I look back, a wall of fog extending as far as my eye can see. I try to move but I'm conscious of how slow I am, how much weaker I am compared to Finnick and Katniss, and how if I don't get a move on, this fog might kill me. Again.

Katniss' fingers lock themselves into mine. I feel her bones through her skin because her grip is so tight. "Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step." she instructs me. It helps, having her movements to focus on, making my body match her own. We seem to move a little faster, but never fast enough to be ahead and get any sort of a rest, even for a second. The mist continues to lap at our heels, droplets that burn the skin like acid when they touch. The pain is incredibly intense, and my already weak body can't handle it.

Finnick, who is a bit more ahead, stops when he realises that Katniss and I are lagging. He shouts encouragement, the sound of his voice acting as a guide.

My artificial leg gets trapped in a knot of vines and I sprawl forward. The gas reaches up to my skin and burns, burns like anything. But then it becomes more - my muscles seem to start twitching, I feel the side of my face sag into itself and I don't know how, I don't know _how_ to move.

"Peeta-" Katniss starts, getting cut off by her own arm starting to spasm.

She yanks me with whatever power and adrenaline she has within her, and I stumble once more. By the time I manage to get to my feet, both of her arms are twitching uncontrollably. The fog is moving closer, a metre away from engulfing us. I try to move my legs, death looming over us, but they won't co-ordinate. They won't work, I can't get them to work.

Finnick suddenly hurls towards us, and he hauls me along. Katniss wedges herself into me to help me walk and help her arm stop from twitching too. We do our best to keep up with Finnicks' rapid pace and end up putting around ten metres behind us and the fog before he stops. "It's no good." he says. "I'll have to carry him. Can you take Mags?"

"Yes," Katniss says, but the look on her face says otherwise. She tries her hardest, holding Mags above her while Finnick slings me across his back and breaks through vines.

The fog keeps coming. It doesn't seem like it's ever going to stop. We try to head toward the water near the Cornucopia. Finnick's arms keep twitching beneath me and at some point, Katniss begins to start falling. With her tiny frame, she can't manage carrying Mags on her back the same way Finnick does, especially with the spasms. She crashes to the ground a few times until she can't seem to get back up anymore, her leg starting to twitch and fly out of control.

Finnick runs back to her side, with me hanging over him.

"It's no use," Katniss says. "Can you take them both? Go on ahead, I'll catch up."

I can't see Finnick's face from where I lay over him, but I feel his shoulders sag underneath my body. "No," he says. "I can't carry them both. My arms aren't working."

A silence falls over us, the fog looming.

"I'm sorry, Mags. I can't do it."

Mags hauls herself up and kisses Finnick. She walks straight into the fog. Finnick is barely holding me anymore, unable to with the emotion that is flying through his body. Her body is seized by the fog and she begins to be twisted in different contortions until she falls to the ground. A cannon blows.

"Finnick?" Katniss calls out, hoarsely.

But Finnick has already pulled himself together. He hauls me back and keeps going. Keeps walking and running and cutting through the vines. Katniss staggers after us. I'm not sure how long we go for until we collapse. Finnick can't hold me against his own spasms anymore, and we fall to the ground. I can't make myself move off from on top of him, my own body twitching and spasming out of my control. Katniss reaches us and falls.

Exhaustion carries me to acceptance. Maybe this is my death. This is how I die. I close my eyes, and wait.

Katniss' voice brings me back. "it's stopped," she croaks, barely understandable. "It's stopped."

I turn my head and watch as the fog rolls upwards against an invisible wall, as if being vacuumed up by the sky. Somehow I manage to roll off Finnick and lie on my back. We all lay, gasping and panting, twitching.

After a few minutes I managed to open my eyes. Above me, I see something moving in the trees and my heart begins to pace, fear lacing its way through me. I have so little within me to fight against whatever may be happening right now. I feel some sort of relief when I realise it's a monkey, and not another tribute or something. I try to move my arm, gesturing vaguely upwards, and say "Mon-hees." For a while, we all stare up at the monkeys in the trees, letting the silence fall into rest onto our aching muscles.

Eventually, I get to my knees, struggling as I do so. I crawl down the slope, and the others follow behind me, until the vines turn to a narrow strip of sandy beach and the warm water that laps the Cornucopia laps our faces.

Katniss jerks back the second the water touches her skin, but it seems to be rubbing away the milky substances that lie within the wounds. I copy her, the water stinging like an open flame, but an immediate relief following. I watch as the wounds seem to just... melt away into the water. Katniss goes over to help Finnick, who seems to be stuck on the sand, into the water. After a few minutes of trying to rub the poison out of my own skin, I go over to help her. We can't drag him fully into the water as the pain would shock him too much, so instead we cut away at his jumpsuit and concentrate on soaking his arms. We can both tell he's incredibly weak as he barely reacts to the painful poison seeping out of him, instead only moaning occasionally.

The night sky on darkens as we work on helping Finnick, making us more susceptible to attack as each minute goes by. "We've got to get more of him into the water," Katniss whispers. I nod to Finnick's feet, with the hope that if we start from the bottom and make our way up, he'll eventually gain proper consciousness. We take a foot each and pull him around, then drag him inch by inch into the salt water. We go from his ankles, and wait for a few minutes, then go further to the middle of his calf and wait more minutes.

Clouds of white seep from his body, detoxifying him from the fog. The longer I sit in the water, the better I feel. I can't bare to imagine how much of the poison has sunk further into my skin, and how much is still pouring out of me.

Finnick slowly starts to revive, coming back around to us both. His eyes are focused on us both, recognising that we're helping him. Katniss lays his head on her lap and we let him soak for around ten minutes from the neck down. When he lifts his arms above the water by himself, Katniss and I exchange a small smile.

"There's just your head left, Finnick. That's the worst part, but you'll feel much better after, if you can bear it," I try to tell him. We sit him up and let him hold onto our hands as he plunges into the water.

Katniss begins to fumble at her belt. "I'm going to try to tap a tree," she tells me.

"Let me make the hole first," I say. "You stay with him. You're the healer."

I find a good tree about ten or so metres from the strip of beach. The sound of my knife working into the wooden tree trunk echoes around me, loud against the quiet of the arena. I'm so into the task that I barely notice when Katniss seems to have joined me.

"Peeta," she says, softly. "I need your help with something."

"OK, just a minute. I think I've just about got it," I say, the hole almost perfect. "Yes, there. Have you got the spile?"

"I do. But we've found something you'd better take a look at," Katniss says, her voice measured and off. "Only move toward us quietly, so you don't startle it."

My heart feels like it's stopped again, my lungs along with it. There's something in Katniss' voice that conveys danger, as calm as she is trying to make herself sound. I turn around to them. "OK," I say, trying to mimic the tones in her voice. I begin to move through the jungle slowly, but my strong suit isn't moving quietly like Katniss. Every step I take sounds like an explosion of twigs and vines, but it doesn't seem to bother whatever it is Katniss is so afraid of me bothering.

I'm only a few metres from the beach strip now, but I make the mistake of turning to look. It seems to set off an explosion of noise and action. Giant orange beasts, monkeys, I think, shriek from the trees and come colliding toward me, bowling me down onto the jungle floor.

" _Mutts_!" Katniss shouts over to Finnick.

In seconds, I have my knife out and I'm slashing away at monkey after monkey. Katniss uses her arrows, bringing them down, and Finnnick spears the beasts with his trident as if it were no effort for the sharp blade to pierce their flesh. Working together, we manage to arrange ourselves into a triangle as we fight against them non-stop. I don't know where they're all coming from, but they're relentlessly here.

"Peeta!" Katniss screams over to me. "Your arrows!"

I look over, seeing her sheath empty. So many arrows, now gone. I don't manage my spare sheath of arrows over to her just as a monkey lunges out from a tree and straight into my chest. I'm struggling with the sheath, trying to wriggle it off me, while keeping the monkey at bay, so that Katniss can shoot it down, but I can't manage both. I slash at it, but it's useless and overpowering.

All of a sudden, from nowhere, a woman runs out at me. Her body replaces mine, and the monkey kills her. Her mouth opens and emits the highest pitch of scream I can imagine as the monkey sinks it's fangs into her chest.


End file.
